


The Studious Apprentice

by Doitsuki



Series: The Last Apprentice [Trilogy] [2]
Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: AU, Altered Mental States, Alternative Energy, Angst, Arcane - Freeform, Books, Canon Divergence, Character Development, Codependence, Codependency, Coming of Age, Dalaran, Dark, Demons, Education, Experimentation, Fake Science, First Meetings, Friendship, Gen, Horror, Journals, Karazhan, Knowledge Is Power but Using it Wisely is the Key, Letters, Magic, Magical Artifacts, Mental Instability, Mood Swings, Multiple Personalities, Orcs, Science Experiments, Spooky, Studying, Suspense, Training, Visions, War, Weird Plot Shit, Xanatos Gambits, kirin tor, the big frighten
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-05
Updated: 2016-10-08
Packaged: 2018-08-13 04:01:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 24,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7961659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doitsuki/pseuds/Doitsuki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Book Two of the Last Apprentice Trilogy. Khadgar has lived with Medivh for four years now but despite having a more coherent grasp on the various schools of magic, he still has much to learn. About control, discipline, trust, relationships and of course, Medivh.</p><p>This is a little darker than the previous book. You Are Prepared!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Khadgar was ten years old when the first vision came. Awake at nine in the evening, his nose buried in a book he’d _just_ unlocked, a chill spread through the library. He shivered, and thought to cast some fire to warm himself before remembering that he might end up burning some of the fragile papers scattered around. The library was still a giant mess after four years and Khadgar did not trust himself to stay safe while cleaning it. There were enough trapped books here to blow up an entire kingdom. Luckily, he’d learnt to pick up the warning signs before anything bad happened. He put down _Binding Rites for the Studious Sorcerer_ and shivered. Dressed in a light linen tunic with matching cream colored pants, he was ill prepared for the sudden snowfall. The chair he sat in morphed into a smooth boulder, and the book in his hands was all that remained of the library. Now, cold winds whipped at him and there was snow _everywhere_. Pinnacles of ice rose out of the ground and thick green clouds flashed in the black sky above. Dread gripped Khadgar’s pounding heart and he struggled to breathe. A shadow stalked towards him, thrice his height and vaguely human shaped. Its glowing red eyes were fixed upon him and he tried to call for Medivh, but only whimpered.

“Whatever is the matter, child? Never seen a demon before?” The demon’s dark red skin rippled as he flexed his huge arms. Khadgar scrambled back, holding onto the book as if it could protect him. Then, Khadgar saw someone sitting where he had been, in the exact same position. A teenager with light brown hair, cloaked in dark furs. He stood and pointed at the demon.

“You will be mine!”

The demon began to laugh but then started screaming, horrible cries wrenched from his throat and forming curses aplenty. The young warlock chanted something that sounded like one of the incantations in the book Khadgar held, and then the demon fell to the ground.

“I…….. serve….” groaned the demon. Khadgar’s mouth fell open.

 _‘What the…’_ He looked around. There was still nothing but a field of white for him to wander. The warlock didn’t see him and instead jumped on the demon’s back, commanding it to bear him east. Khadgar was at a loss for what to do – he knew not where he was or how he could return to the library he’d been so comfortably sitting in before. He curled into a ball and held his book close to his chest, shivering… until his surroundings began to fade away and a little heat returned to his body. Khadgar did not realise he’d been crying until a finger brushed past his cheek. His blurred vision returned to him after blinking a few times, and there was Medivh kneeling in front of him, face twisted with concern.

“Young Trust! Please, stop that at once!”

“….nnh?” Khadgar bit his bottom lip, eyes huge and glistening. “M…Medivh…” He glanced left and then right. His environment had changed to what it was supposed to be. “I… was that… real…?”

Medivh sighed. “You had a vision, didn’t you? Come here. It’s okay.” He wrapped his arms around Khadgar who buried his face into his Master’s chest. Over time, Khadgar’s shivers subsided and Medivh managed to pick him up, cradling him as if he were a toddler. It was a habit of his by now – and Khadgar loved to be held. Whenever he was upset, all Medivh had to do was pick him up and all would be well again. Medivh took Khadgar out of the library and into a sitting room, easing himself onto a long red couch near the window. Khadgar peeped up at Medivh, easily comforted by the man’s kindness and security.

“Those visions feel real, but they cannot hurt you, Young Trust. In time, you will understand how they work.” Medivh gently stroked Khadgar’s hair, which had grown to shoulder length just like his own. “It’s okay to be afraid, though.”

Khadgar closed his eyes and began to relax as Medivh petted him. He did not say anything, only making small noises from time to time. Medivh gazed out the arched window and observed the vast expanse of Deadwind Pass, the distant Duskwood looking as misty as ever.

_‘I cannot protect him from Karazhan’s temporal shifts… damn it.’_

**_‘He is weak if specters and visions frighten him. You should kill him, Guardian.’_ **

Medivh stiffened, and Khadgar felt it. The ethereal, cruel voice in Medivh’s head became choked as Medivh made a conscious mental effort to torment it.

 _‘Never suggest such a thing to me again.’_ Sargeras had been bothering Medivh at an increasing rate as the years had passed. It took a fair bit of energy for Medivh to keep him quiet, even more to ensure he did not assume control. By the end of each day he was exhausted, his only reprieve in Khadgar’s precious smile and unconditional love. His sleep was plagued by nightmares when his mind was unguarded. There was no rest for the cursed, it seemed. Khadgar was beginning to notice, even when Medivh tried his best to hide it. The Magus was growing dark and brooding when left alone – Khadgar saw this when snooping about undetected. Or at least, when Medivh let him be while engrossed in his own work.

 

One day, Khadgar watched Medivh flip through a tome page by page. Peeping at him through the bookshelves in the library, Khadgar frowned. Medivh did not look very interested in what he was reading, brows furrowed and shoulders squared. He loomed darkly over the book and his eyes were somewhat glazed. Because the book was flat on the table Medivh sat at, Khadgar could not see the title. But he could feel the dark energy radiating from it and his stomach churned.

_‘Just what is he studying…?’_

Medivh’s eyes flicked up and met Khadgar’s. Khadgar gasped.

“Young Trust…” Medivh growled. “Are you spying on me?”

“Ah, um…” Khadgar began stammering for a proper answer that wouldn’t incur his Master’s wrath – he’d never faced it before, and did not want to today. “I wanted to know… what you were reading about…”

“Things beyond the scope of your learning.” Medivh shut the book and saw Khadgar’s eyes flick to the cover, which was written in Demonic. “Have you nothing better to do?”

Khadgar withered under Medivh’s glare. Why was he so upset? Khadgar thought he knew everything that influenced his Master’s emotional state. There hadn’t been any letters Medivh had been frowning at recently, nor messengers bearing ill news…

Medivh pursed his lips, eyes bloodshot. His entire body and mind strained to combat the will of the demon inside him.

**_‘Bringgggg him… to meee…’_ **

_‘Never! No! Nyeh! Heck off! He’s scared… damn you…!’_ Nearly helpless, Medivh’s face flashed through a myriad of emotions. First anger, then irritation, then fear, then back to anger… eyes twitching all the while. They glowed just a tad. Khadgar had a cold, dark sinking feeling as Medivh watched him and unwilling to see where this encounter was going, he fled.

Medivh put his head in his hands.

_‘What… are you doing to me?’_

**_‘If only you would not resist. We could have… so much fun…’_ **

Time passed.

 

Medivh read through a letter at dinner one day, picking at his food as the parchment hovered before him.

 

_The orcs are not attacking as frequently but our scouts have reported increased activity around the swamp…_

_‘Of course. I told them to gather more reinforcements from Draenor and hold off on attacking any major cities…’_ Medivh thought.

Khadgar tried to read the letter but Medivh had it angled so that he could not. He had already finished half of his food and was dividing his attention between glimpsing the letter and conjuring some sweets.

“Focus, Young Trust.” said Medivh casually. “Or have you forgotten how to cast properly?”

That hurt, and Khadgar pouted. He pushed all his energy then into the task he’d set for himself – Medivh had been rewarding him with less pastries and cakes these days, and he was craving the stuff _hard_. He thought of sweet, thick chocolate melting from layers of crisped dough and muttered a paragraph’s worth of incantations. What he managed was a slice of bread with suspicious brown paste spread across it.

“For fuck’s sake…” Khadgar whispered under his breath. Medivh sharply turned towards him.

“What did you just say?!”

“Nothing! Nothing.” Khadgar held up his bread and used it to hide his face. Medivh’s gaze penetrated through it and Khadgar flushed with embarrassment.

“Where did you learn to speak like that? Not from me, surely.”

Khadgar looked away. “I, uh… well you see, the visions…”

“Ugh.” Medivh shook his head, and plucked the letter out of the air. He set it on fire and then disintegrated his empty plate along with the resulting ashes. “They are teaching you things I wouldn’t dare.” He stood up and batted Khadgar’s bread away from him. “And don’t eat that. Come, I will teach you how to conjure _proper_ food.” He proceeded to lecture Khadgar about magical sweets being exceedingly unhealthy but Khadgar found himself not caring. He likened the little swirling cakes and pies to Medivh’s praise and there was no debuff in the world that could turn him off that. Besides – he felt healthy enough. He could climb a hundred stairs in less than a minute if he tried. And, uh, levitated a bit.

The evening was spent with Medivh teaching Khadgar how to make things like potatoes and synthetic meat-like compounds that could fool just about anyone who begged for ‘mage food pls’. Khadgar wanted to get this right the first time but memorising the new incantations for adding richness and a savoury touch to foods were doing his head in. After about an hour of making liquefied monstrosities he lowered his hands, exhausted. He couldn’t meet Medivh’s eyes as he said,

“I can’t do it.”

“Yes you can.” said Medivh, but the annoyance in his voice was clear. Khadgar felt utterly hopeless and now with a slight headache, turned away. A wrenching dagger of aggression pierced Medivh’s forced calm and he jolted, unsure of where it had come from. But he did not like to see his apprentice turn his back and give up. Dark whispers pushed him forth and he set a heavy hand on Khadgar’s right shoulder, fingers clutching both fabric and flesh. Khadgar froze.

“I will not have you leave this room thinking yourself a failure, Young Trust. Turn. Around.”

Khadgar obeyed, Medivh guiding him roughly and then stepping back, hand falling to his side.

“So you cannot conjure food yet. And you will not today. But I will see you succeed at something else.” Medivh’s hands came together and moved as if pulling apart an enemy’s still-beating heart. White-hot energy crackled between his fingers, prisms of light widening from the edges of his nails. “Fight me.”

“What?!” Khadgar could hear his own pulse thundering in his ears, racing through his blood vessels that felt like they were constricting his whole body. It was as if a net was wrapped around him and squeezing, scratching and searing his skin. Alert to the situation but not the changes occurring within him, Khadgar stopped thinking rationally and feared for his life. He thought not of why his benevolent Master would wish to actually harm him – he saw Medivh’s stance, felt the energy in the air, looked into bright green eyes and let his instincts take over. But Medivh did not attack him.

“Focus.” said the Magus, an unnatural smile contorting every muscle on his face. “Do not be afraid.”

Khadgar shook his head, energy welling up in his outstretched hands. “I can’t.”

“If you do not direct your attacks with your mind, then your desperation will become your downfall. Listen to me, Young Trust.” Medivh’s magic turned yellow and he stared into Khadgar’s eyes. _‘Should I daze him? It could scramble his brain with the way he is now… but I need him to be aware, not scared out of his wits. Ai, did I teach him this cowardice?’_

**_‘He is afraid of your power… our power. Only a fool would stand bravely before the great Guardian in battle, alone…’_ **

_‘This is no battle, it is a mere training exercise. Why is he so afraid?’_ Medivh could clearly see Khadgar trembling. Then he remembered that his apprentice was probably exhausted after trying so hard to conjure things earlier that now, his mind had shut down and let his body take over. But magic was not made of bodily efforts alone.

 _‘Wait… maybe this is a good chance to see how he fights when cornered. Though he is young, the way the world is going, he will have to learn magical combat sooner or later. Against a **real** foe.’_ Medivh stood up straight, realizing he’d been hunched over like an orcish warlock. Khadgar was still watching him. Then, Medivh let out a controlled fireball towards his apprentice’s face with a grunt.

“Ta’kal!” Khadgar cried, pulling up a shimmering blue shield in fright.

“Good.” said Medivh, raising one hand. “Attack, before I _kill you._ ” He’d barely gotten the words out (not his own words, he realized too late) when Khadgar shrieked at him.

“ _Shalaros!”_ A slim purple missile knifed into Medivh’s chest and sent him stumbling back, his only thought to call his staff Atiesh from where it rested against the wall so he could lean on it for support. The staff smacked into his right hand and he vaulted backwards over it, glad to be wearing only a tunic and tight breeches for maneuverability. He was impressed. Khadgar had only been learning how to understand the Arcane for a year now and had undoubtedly been practising the formulae on his own. There were numbers, quantities, energies and equations he had to balance with every attack. Squinting into the air, Medivh could see how Khadgar’s focus was on pulling all the energy he could towards him. Of course – his own mana was all but depleted and the ever-present Arcane was the only thing he could harness. With whatever remaining mental strength he had, Khadgar blasted Medivh with a huge violet ball. Medivh deflected it with Atiesh and summoned flaming meteors down from the ceiling, which Khadgar felt slam against his shield. Khadgar’s eyes were glowing bright purple as he sank into the repeated ebb and flow of the Arcane. He alternated between the only two incantations he knew well enough to attack with.

“Shalaros! Shalarah! Sh- oh, shit!” Khadgar saw a huge elemental storming towards him, massive hands outstretched and ripping open his shield. Khadgar blinked into the space behind the elemental, finding himself falling into Medivh’s open arms. Medivh dispelled the chaos at once and suddenly the room was silent, save for the sounds of Khadgar struggling. Letting Atiesh hover beside him, Medivh wrapped his arms around his apprentice.

“Calm down. You’ve done enough.”

As the adrenaline seeped out of Khadgar’s body, he found himself slumping into Medivh wearier than he had ever been before. Now his headache was much, much worse and he wanted to curl into a ball and cry. Medivh hefted him up into his arms and blinked away the thoughts that told him to do unspeakable things to his worn out apprentice.

“You can succeed in the most dire of situations it seems, Young Trust. I am proud of you.”

Khadgar whined, limp in Medivh’s arms. The Magus supported his head so that he didn’t have to break his neck by having it roll back.

“And I wasn’t going to kill you, you know. That was just to entice you into defending yourself a little better.” Medivh had only seen Khadgar put up one shield, using the power of Frost. “I should teach you Abjuration. It’ll serve you well.”

“No more…” Khadgar murmured. “Please, M…Medivh… I’m tired…”

“I know.” Medivh hugged Khadgar close as he ascended the stairs. “Now you can sleep. Forgive me if I pushed you too far. I…” He fell silent. _‘I did not want you to walk away from me and think yourself a failure. I did not want you to give up. I…’_

**_‘…wanted to kill you.’_ **

_‘For your insolence, cowardice, n- STOP THAT.’_ Medivh shook his head. _‘It is over.’_

**_‘Hmph.’_ **

Medivh kept as still as he could once he’d put Khadgar to bed, sitting beside him and stroking his hair. The boy had fallen unconscious the moment Medivh had set him down, and now looked dead save for the rise and fall of his chest. Medivh had his legs crossed and was a little hunched over, hands fisted in the silken bedcovers. Sargeras’s thoughts were beginning to infect his own. This was the exact corruption he’d been fighting against, but it took so many forms that it began to manifest where he was least able to combat it. Where once had been self assurance and solid morals now sprouted dark seeds of doubt. Granted, those doubts spoke in Sargeras’s voice which Medivh could distinguish from his own, but… how long would it be until he couldn’t? Even now, the thoughts came.

‘ ** _Kill him… it would be so easy… forget his shackling presence in your tower and focus on what truly matters… the destruction of all life on Azeroth!_** ’

Medivh cringed. “Stop it…” he growled, a pleading note to his worn voice. Khadgar continued to sleep as Medivh tried to pull out his own hair, succeeding in ripping out a few strands. But when the Magus tried to brush his hands clean, he saw that the strands were white. White and _dead_.

“No…”


	2. Chapter 2

Khadgar knew he was being tested. Today was the first day he’d been allowed to assist Medivh in his usually private duties, carefully folding the Magus’s robes. At least he was finally behind the doors that had until today been closed to him. Medivh reclined in a huge circular pool of mana, the energy taking liquid form and shimmering with white ripples. The stuff was purely Arcane, melting between a soft purple glow and complete transparency, flashes of energy darting beneath the surface like tiny fish. Neat grey bricks curved around the circumference of the pool with softened corners and crystallized mana residue glowing through the cracks. Closer to the bottom of the pool were pinkish purple crystals that were sharp enough to cut flesh. Medivh only sat completely nude as he restored his energies, ignoring the untidy state of things. He rarely bothered to clean the pool. It required a delicate hand to pluck the crystals and a strong one to crush them into dust. He simply had more interesting things to do.

Khadgar stood barefoot on the cool, smooth stone floor. It was no wonder Medivh had not let him into this place before. Magic was thick in the air and equations danced before his very eyes with each deep breath. Sweet, tingling mana filled his lungs and spread throughout his body. It supplemented his physical energy and allowed Khadgar to do just about anything without tiring. Currently, he was staring at Medivh. The Magus had his eyes closed, his head tilted back and his formerly thick, silky locks of dark hair now scattered behind him, streaked with white. To Khadgar, he looked much older than he used to. The change had come upon him within the past two years but Khadgar had not said anything. Now at least he knew why Medivh had been spending more time alone. This pool restored the energies he spent doing things Khadgar could not fathom. Whatever he was studying, making or fighting, it sure took a lot out of him. Khadgar turned to the pile of crimson robes on the stone-carved table beside him. Medivh had grown disturbingly private as of late. He wore the same clothes, carried the same stride, but spoke in shorter sentences as if Khadgar was undeserving of longer ones. His patience had thinned to the point that Khadgar was oft being snapped at for making the slightest of mistakes. Khadgar’s heart was filled with sorrow for his Master’s current state. Every time he asked what was stressing or occupying Medivh so, he was dismissed curtly and sometimes even intimidated into silence. Medivh… could look rather scary when he tried. Alright, that was an understatement. Khadgar had on numerous occasions nearly pissed himself in fright after Medivh had thundered commands at him, sometimes even throwing books to distract him from his inquiries. Khadgar had always slunk off to study whatever Medivh had ‘given’ him. More often than not, it was new material that was in no way aligned with his studies of advanced Frost and basic Arcane. That was how he now came into possession of several random books, three of which he’d brought into the Restoration Room. He sat on the table beside Medivh’s robes and wondered which one he could flick through – there was no true concentration in here, not with all that energy floating around. The first one, _Dank Memes of Dalaran_ did not make much sense to him. It referenced events that had occurred well before he’d even been born. Why Medivh had been reading it one day was still a mystery to him. The second, _Demon Doggos and How to Tame Them_ had such detailed illustrations of terrifying beings that Khadgar could not look at them overlong. The third, Khadgar hadn’t actually opened before. It was the most recent one Medivh had chucked at him before running off to meditate in the mana pool. It calmed him, and Khadgar was glad for that.

 _‘Draconic Compendium – Volume IV. Oh, this looks interesting…’_ Khadgar opened the book and began to read an account of the various dragonflights on Azeroth. He had never seen one in reality, but firmly believed they existed. After spending too long staring at one of the illustrations (which moved whenever his eyes drifted away) he decided to take his spellbook out of his robes and copy some of them. He always had a quill on hand but as there was no ink nearby, Khadgar decided to use the excess mana that had congealed on the table. It was pink, and when he scraped his quill across it, a glowing white streak cut through. Carefully he traced the outline of a black dragon’s profile onto a blank page of his spellbook, adding in details for every scale, spike and patch of skin. The mana was like white ink against the yellowed parchment, only it glowed as if embedded in every layer of paper instead of just one. Khadgar flipped the page to see that the rest of his spellbook was unmarked, though there were slight indentations in the page beneath his drawing from where his quill had pressed. He worked silently for over an hour, until he felt a shift in the air. Tearing his eyes from his drawing, he saw that Medivh had dressed himself and looked thoroughly invigorated from his time in the mana pool. His soft gaze turned to Khadgar, curious.

“What are you working on, Young Trust?”

Khadgar slipped off the table and presented his spellbook to Medivh.

“Hm… dragons? Interesting.” Medivh nodded approval of Khadgar’s (heavily referenced) art and patted him on the head. He exited the room then and Khadgar followed him, hurriedly gathering his books and then trailing along. Medivh had long since grown used to this behaviour and took the steps up Karazhan two at a time. He passed Moroes who gave a cursory nod and continued on his way downstairs.

“So!” said Medivh brightly upon reaching the observatory. “How have your studies been going?”

“Well enough.” Khadgar took a moment to catch his breath. “All that I read on Frost makes sense, and Fire is coming along nicely too. But the Arcane…”

“It gives you trouble, I know.” Medivh pulled up a chair in front of the wooden desk he had to the left of the landing platform. The setting sun provided just enough light for him to see which papers he was shoving out of the way. Once there was space in the middle of the desk, he summoned a book from one of the shelves and set it down. Then, he beckoned. “Come, sit. I will explain.”

Khadgar eagerly seated himself in Medivh’s comfortable lap, his head just reaching his Master’s chin. Medivh rested a hand on the desk and opened the book with the other. It was the _Encyclopedia Arcanum_ , containing facts pertaining to the various schools of Arcane magic.

“What have you been stuck on?”

Khadgar looked ashamed for a moment. “Abjuration.”

“Oh?” Medivh kept the book open to the page of contents. “Recite for me a concise summary of the school.”

Khadgar sighed. “Abjuration is the study of protective magic and one of the most important schools for a young mage to study. The most generalized abjuration spell is the mana shield, a spell that transmutes raw mana into a barrier that protects the caster from attacks. Properly executed, this spell can protect the mage against even the most formidable of attacks - but the mana shield is very difficult for a novice to master. It often takes a mage months of practice to even conjure a simple mana shield, and thus, more basic alternatives exist.” He huffed. “There.”

“And you are yet a novice, Young Trust, though you seem to expect a perfect shield to form at your command.” Medivh tugged on Khadgar’s cheek very, very gently. Khadgar squeaked, blushing. “You know the incantation, I assume?”

“Yes, but… the equation to spread the energies and fortify them is a bit…” Khadgar shuffled around and produced his spellbook, where long, long lines of arcane scribblings went down to the finest decimal point. Medivh put his finger on the fifth line out of two hundred and fifty.

“This one is wrong.”

“!!” Khadgar squinted. “What? How? Why?”

“You forgot to carry the two. See here, where the ley-fabric requires a multiple of two instead of three? Where did you even get three from, anyway?”

“Oh, I don’t know…” Khadgar put his head in his hands. “I’m so sorry.”

“No, don’t be.” Medivh cupped Khadgar’s face and pulled him up into a proper upright position, having none of that hunched over business. “It’s okay to make mistakes. Even the most basic of them can meddle with a spell you thought was perfect. Have you tried casting this?”

“Yes, but the energies fell apart as I recalled the steps up to the end result.” Khadgar glared at his spellbook. “Do I have to work it out _again_?”

“You do. Come, it will only take about forty minutes. I will help you. Start here,” Medivh dissolved the ink on the page including the part that had been written correctly “And do not lose focus.”

With Medivh’s reassuring warmth surrounding him and corrections at hand, Khadgar set to work. Medivh prompted him when he spent too long tracing numbers in the air and did not chastise him too much. Along with regenerating his mana in the pool, Medivh had also replenished his patience. Only when the sun had gone down did Khadgar finish writing the last of his equations, and then absently conjured a simple arcane light source that used the first two lines he had written. Medivh kissed the top of his head and Khadgar made soft, appreciative sound.

“Well done.” said Medivh, suggesting that Khadgar try out his shield now that the equations were correct. “Read over all that and once you are sure of producing the end result, stand up.”

Khadgar did not want to stand, being so snug cuddled up with his Master, but ached to see if he could really do this. He’d been trying for months on his own. Now, he walked to the center of the observatory and Medivh followed. Then, the Magus touched his hand and teleported them both into the summoning room downstairs. Just in case Khadgar’s shield caused a bit of destruction, as new spells were prone to doing. Medivh stood behind his apprentice and sensed the energies that hung in the room drifting towards Khadgar. They wove together to form the correct ley-fabric that draped against an invisible sphere, the shield growing in a large bowl shape in front of Khadgar’s outstretched hands. Then, Khadgar spoke the incantation that brought everything into physical sight. The air before him made a loud _bwoomp_ sound and suddenly, nothing could come into Khadgar’s personal space unless he willed it. Keeping his shield up, he turned to Medivh who was also contained within the protective field.

“Excellent!” Medivh gave Khadgar a pure, exultant smile. Khadgar’s open, glowing eyes showed just how pleased he was with himself and he dispelled the shield after holding it for ten seconds. “That felt solid to me.” said Medivh, white sparks dancing around his fingers. “Next time you try, we’ll test how strong it is. Let the knowledge sink into your mind for now.” He gave Khadgar a mana potion and then patted him fondly on the head. Khadgar purred, closing his eyes. After drinking the potion he felt well enough to think things over and start to wind down for the night. Relaxed and sure of himself, he drifted upstairs. Medivh did too, his apprentice’s success feeling like his own. He slept reasonably well that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the mana pool from the movie intrigues me so I put it in here. if you want to know what its like to dive into it, go play legion and stick your face into Senegos's pool in Azshara. It's really, really pretty. XD (might upload a video of me doing it in first person, the effects are honestly worth it. my words cannot describeeee)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They come.

After a few weeks had passed, Khadgar was busy playing with the Arcane when he heard a sound. It was a very, very soft click and came from the Gatehouse, the side entrance near the summoning room on the ground floor. Khadgar held his energies with confidence in both hands, leaving his spellbook on the floor as he snuck out of the room. Around the circular corridor he crept, through the servant’s quarters where Cook was sleeping and Moroes was nowhere in sight. As he neared the empty stables he saw a flash of movement. Deciding against making his presence known, he ducked behind a half wall and held his breath. A male voice spoke with a deathly calm monotone.

“I sense you.”

Khadgar could sense too, this magic that was foreign and familiar at once. As he sniffed the air and reached with his mind, dregs of memory curled like slippery eels through his skull. Then his blood ran cold. A great eye flashed before his vision and he could see nothing more than white as an enormous sheet of sorcerous fire whooshed around him. Two words came to him. _Kirin Tor._

He forced up a mana shield at once, the long arcane equations coming to him as easily as the square root of 144. It was simple memory for him and he sighed with relief as the enemy mage’s attack stopped burning him, creeping away as his shield pushed the energy back. A sudden barrage of arcane missiles began pounding at him and with every hit, Khadgar felt his shield weakening. The mage was coming closer now, lips moving but words unheard as fierce winds whipped his beard and robes into a wailing, fluttering frenzy. Khadgar did not yet know how to conjure attacks from within the safety of his shield and tried not to panic, holding his defenses as best he could. Karazhan’s magic was familiar to him and many ley lines converged at the tower, giving Khadgar a near unlimited source of arcane power. Harnessing it was far too complex for him however and after pulling what he could from the air, found his arms tiring. The mage was close enough for Khadgar to see the rings glittering on his stiff, conjuring fingers and suddenly something flew past Khadgar’s head. It hit the mage in the face with a loud **_CRUNG_** and knocked him out. Khadgar let his shield fall, panting from exertion and holding a breath he’d only just let out. Cook walked beside Khadgar and bent down next to the fallen mage, picked up his frying pan and inspected it. He looked to the quivering apprentice, brows raised.

“Call the Master, will you? I think there’s a few more of them lurking about.” Other voices could be heard now that they were closer to being outside and Khadgar got to his feet, nodding.

“Thank you… for that.” said Khadgar, to which Cook inclined his head with a smile. Khadgar stretched, took one look at the mage’s purple tabard and sprinted upstairs. He could hardly breathe by the time he got to the fifth floor and Medivh was there, looking mighty irritated.

“Young Trust!”

“Medivh!” Khadgar fell against his Master, who grabbed him by the hair and forced him to stand on his feet. “Ow, ow! There… haah, there are people outside!”

Medivh’s dark eyes flashed from green to red, settling on a deep magenta.

“People? Outside _my_ tower?”

‘ ** _It’s more likely than you think. Let’s kill them.’_**

Sargeras held more control over Medivh himself in this moment and the Magus pushed past Khadgar, teleporting to the magically warded front door of Karazhan. There were strong defenses set up all around the tower and though Medivh had felt them being tested, he’d not thought to do anything about it – nothing could damage his home unless he willed it. And he did not.

 _‘Who is penetrating my wards and what has given them the power to do so?’_ There were separate barriers around the perimeter of what Medivh considered his property. Nothing magical was supposed to get within fifty yards of the place, certainly no foreign mages, warlocks or demons. Yet an entire inquisition from Dalaran lurked about and with his extended sensory perception, Medivh felt them. He stalked forwards, black feathered cloak whirling on the strong winds that buffeted everything at ground level. It was a direct result of the Guardian’s turbulent anger and he drew in a deep breath, raw power carrying his voice to every corner of Deadwind Pass.

“WHO DARES TRESPASS ON MY LAWN?”

No-one came forth. Khadgar watched from a window, aghast at the way Medivh stomped around, livid with rage. Flames licked at his arms and upper body, left hand clutching Atiesh and the right holding a powerful spell. Soon enough however he had disappeared into a thicket of dead trees, where the land rose high into grey hills and plateaus. Khadgar made his way to the observatory and angled the telescope on the landing platform to try and spy where his Master was going. What he saw terrified him. Kirin Tor banners had been erected in a secluded spot not far from Karazhan, and figures cloaked with magic Khadgar could easily see through (the telescope was enchanted for that) wandered about. Some were sitting and others were casting, and one guy was even taking a piss behind a tree. Khadgar blinked. Then he saw Medivh, who looked to be in no mood for negotiations. There were people too close to his tower and he did not like it one bit.

_‘What is he going to do?’_

Down at the Kirin Tor camp, which held none of the magical senate’s members but all of their secret spy organization, Medivh was greeted by a tall female Archmage.

“Ah, Guardian.” Her voice was level and calm in the face of certain doom. “Wh-” Medivh clenched his hand and her entire body burst into flames. He watched her convulse and scream for a long, agonizing minute as did the rest of the shocked magi. Medivh turned his gaze to them.

“Leave.” He knew why they were here – to spy on him, like everyone else did. Or perhaps to retrieve Antonidas’s orb. It did not matter. They were unwelcome, and as the scent of charred flesh rose a flock of ravens descended to chase them away. The birds perched on the erected banners and tents, cawing at the intruders. One landed on Medivh’s head and he thumped Atiesh’s base against the ground, magnifying his threat generation by about 2000%. He did not need to repeat himself. The spies fled, missing two of their members and leaving all of their belongings behind. As the ravens picked at the cooling corpse, Medivh went around and rifled through the tomes and supplies in each of the tents. He also sent the raven on his head off to see where the magi went and to report back to him about it. He was dismayed to find few written orders, but there were a couple of journals hidden under pillows and locked in small wooden chests. He sat in a tent and read about what _Archmage Melisandre_ had been doing.

 

_11/3_

_The Violet Eye has finally reached Karazhan, and we have set ourselves up in a cold, unwelcoming little valley. The rocks themselves seem arrayed against us, rising in jagged shapes that cast unsettling shadows at night. Furthermore, our attempts to sense the wards around the tower have proved unsuccessful. The Guardian’s magic is more powerful than any of us have ever known, and mental contact with the perimeter defences has proven to be excruciatingly draining._

_I fear what will happen once the Guardian realizes we are here. I suspect he is not overly fond of visitors, and might be as they say in Dalaran, mad. In this journal I think I will place a soul sigil in case of sudden death. After all, we trifle with the Arcane when pushing against these wards. I can feel it. And it does not feel good._

The journal was written in blood.

 

Medivh slipped it into his robes and went about collecting all the other texts the Violet Eye’s Spies had left behind. He ended up levitating everything back through the Gatehouse and tasked Moroes with stocking the supplies. The books, he took upstairs and dumped in the library, adding to the huge pile near the left of the door. As he went to sit down and read through Melisandre’s journal from the first page, he heard his apprentice’s voice.

“Medivh…”

“Hm?” Medivh turned his head to see Khadgar standing in the doorway, white as a sheet.

“You… you killed one of those magi!”

“Of course I did.” Medivh said nonchalantly. “They were going to invade Karazhan and steal my precious artifacts. They could even have hurt you, and I will not allow that.” He smiled slightly. “They’re gone now. Don’t worry, Young Trust. I will keep you safe.”

Khadgar furrowed his brows, highly unnerved. Moments ago Medivh had been a raging whirlwind of terror and destruction, somewhat contained but worrisome nonetheless. With a single display of his latent power, he’d shown both the Violet Eye and Khadgar what he could do. And that was a mere warning. Questions filled Khadgar’s mind, having grown the second he tore his eye from the telescope. Why had Medivh attacked without waiting to hear what the intruders had to say? The first person he’d come into contact with had been incinerated, and had by no means died a merciful death. What was worse was that Khadgar distinctly remembered Medivh’s shoulders shaking as he watched his foe convulse. Almost as if he was… laughing…

“Come, my apprentice. I have a task for you.” Medivh was as calm and collected as usual, despite Khadgar’s sudden misgivings. Unwilling to draw Medivh’s suspicion, Khadgar stepped into the library. Medivh pointed to the pile of new books. “Sort through those and tell me if you find anything interesting.”

Khadgar nodded, went over to the pile and looked through the various tomes. Quite a few were on dispelling wards, drawing on shadowy energies to become cloaked in stealth, keeping shields up without having them being detected… suspicious business indeed. Inside a journal, Khadgar found a scrap of paper. When he touched it, the image of a stern, old Archmage became known to him. Antonidas. Gasping, he dropped the paper only to reach for it at once. Medivh held out his hand.

“Give that to me.”

Khadgar obeyed, though he feared what knowledge his Master would glean from it. Medivh at once saw Antonidas writing with anger hot in his blood and not a soul to witness it.

 

 _Find the Guardian’s apprentice, a boy with dark hair and blue eyes. Capture him and bring him to Dalaran. If you cannot, I authorize full torment upon him, but no necromantic magics or Fel shall be used, no matter how efficient. He has my Orb of Temporal Displacement. Find it, using this –_ there was a sigil that had a distinct magical signature, that of Antonidas which was also embedded in the Orb – _or force knowledge of its location out of Khadgar. I have waited long enough._

 

Medivh blinked. “It seems Archmage Antonidas is still missing something.” He turned very slowly to Khadgar and fixed him with a piercing glare. “Something I myself have not yet found. Care to enlighten me, Young Trust?”

Khadgar’s wide eyes darted around.

“Do not lie to me.” Medivh said as he stood, looming over Khadgar with the paper in one hand. “It is better I find this orb before Antonidas himself comes looking for it.”

“It… it’s in the storage portal…” Khadgar stammered, unable to keep his mouth shut when Medivh willed him to speak. “I’ll get it for you, M..Medivh, Master, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, please-” The Magus suddenly grabbed him by the arm and teleported them up into the bedroom they shared. Medivh released Khadgar right in front of the portal and looked at the boy expectantly. Trembling, Khadgar called to mind the Orb of Temporal Displacement and reached into the portal. He then drew out a perfectly spherical purple and red ball, its surface smooth and contents swirling. Medivh snatched it from him and promptly disappeared, leaving Khadgar stunned and afraid.

_‘W…well… there goes my last hope to ever make things right again.’_

He curled up on the bed and held himself, for he felt powerless to do anything more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> plot device revealed!! I had to make a macguffin of sorts to interest people because real talk who wants to read 20k of Medivh and Khadgar being cute lmao (I do...)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning, this chapter rambles and has a frustrating amount of fake science in it. extra precaution for: medical procedures

Medivh spent _months_ studying Antonidas’s orb. It was his own now and gave him unlimited opportunities to be reclusive and withdrawn. Sargeras was interested too, and the two great minds piloting one strong body slowly unraveled the secrets of temporal displacement. Medivh was most knowledgable about this sort of thing, living in Karazhan where fragments of time flitted around the place, playing out themselves in snippets and visions and ghosts. The orb brought events from long ago into the here and now, physically changing the user’s current location to reflect the chosen time. Thus, the past _became_ the present. Medivh could level Karazhan to the ground before it had been made with this thing in his hands. It was a powerful artifact indeed. The first question that popped up was: ‘ _Can I use it on people?’_

First, he needed a target to unmake. Sargeras was cackling with delight at the way Medivh was thinking, and suggested he turn back the clock to when the Violet Eye had set up camp near Karazhan. Then, there would be plenty of people to experiment with. Medivh focussed as he was so good at doing and glanced down from the observatory. The air shimmered and suddenly, the abandoned Kirin Tor camp was populated with magi once more. As Medivh had focussed on that spot specifically, nothing inside of Karazhan had changed. Khadgar was still doing what he’d been doing ten minutes ago (reading) and Moroes was cleaning as usual.    Medivh smiled, the orb in one hand. It was time to play.

He descended in raven form to the Kirin Tor camp, now lively in comparison to its former state of abandonment. He picked out a random Archmage and took human shape before him.

“Excuse me.”

All eyes turned to Medivh.

“G-Guardian!” The Archmage inclined his head, blonde hair falling over his shoulders. He quickly swept it back and tried to smile. “I…”

“No, don’t speak.” Medivh raised one hand. In it, he held the Orb of Temporal Displacement. He concentrated on the life essence within the man standing before him, used the power of the orb to pull a memory of it from the past and then infused the Archmage with it. He’d only chosen ten years to revert the middle-aged man into but after choked gasps and violent convulsions, the Archmage looked to be in his twenties. He stared at Medivh, then looked around frantically.

“Wh… where am I?”

“Where do you last remember being?” asked Medivh, placing a hand on the man’s head to keep him from running away. The other magi backed away, some whispering about the orb.

“Dal…aran…” The Archmage made eye contact with Medivh and was suddenly teleported beneath Karazhan, where Medivh had sprawling dungeons and kept instruments fit for exquisite torment. Medivh pushed him into a leather chair and sat opposite him, lighting the fireplace set into the dark grey stone wall.

“What is your name and position?”

“Position? I…”

“Name first.” Medivh tapped his fingers in a wavelike sequence against the orb, its colors still swirling mesmerisingly.

“Tobias Quillian… I’m studying to become an Archmage.”

“Oh?” Medivh tilted his head to the side, stroking his dark brown beard. It felt oddly scratchy in places where the hairs were bone-white. “Are you an apprentice, then?”

“No, no. I study on my own, on the schools of Divination and Conjuration.” Tobias blinked, taking in his surroundings. Wrought iron braziers lined the grey brick walls, and there was no carpet beneath the chairs he and Medivh sat in. He looked at the Guardian. “You… I’ve seen you in books.”

“Of course you have.” Medivh snapped. “I’m the Guardian of Azeroth. Perhaps you know of the Tirisfalen?”

Tobias couldn’t believe what he was hearing and drew his hands to his mouth in shock. Or at least, he tried. Leather bindings kept his arms against the chair’s rounded armrests. His eyes widened and he started to tug at the magically enhanced restraints.

“Ngh!”

“Do stop struggling.” Medivh sat back in his own seat, the hood over his head casting eerie shadows about his angular face. The feathers of his cloak seemed to meld with the darkness, not even firelight glancing off their inky black barbs. Abruptly he asked a question. “How did you come to Karazhan?”

Tobias looked positively stricken. “I was… in the library just moments ago… but I wasn’t reading anything that could have teleported me here.”

“Let me tell you something.” Medivh was impressed with the man’s ability to remain calm. Confusion and the hazy aura in the room had that effect on people, he surmised. “Moments ago, you were around the same age as me. Now, you are twenty years younger.”

It was beyond Tobias’s comprehension and he lowered his head, eyes still wide open. “That can’t be. I’ve lived my life up until now, and I still keep living despite being… uh… here. You can’t possibly expect me to believe I’ve lived twice as long and suddenly forgotten half of my experiences.”

“You have.” Medivh looked triumphant. “And it is all because of this.” He waved the orb around, dark purple smoke trailing from it. Tobias looked at it, eyes following the movement.

“What’s that?”

“Oh, of course you don’t know. After all, Antonidas asked you and your spying comrades to sneak into Karazhan and steal it perhaps a month ago. But you don’t remember a month ago. You remember twenty years ago, though I intended more.”

Tobias the Archmage had gone from a middle aged master of magic to a simple, intelligent young mage. And it wasn’t that he’d forgotten the past two decades of his life – it was that his past self had become his present, his past self having not lived for more than twenty years. He now looked, felt and thought as he had all those years ago. If he had any friends in Dalaran, they undoubtedly be jealous of his sweet anti aging skills. That is, if they recognized him. He didn’t even have a beard. _Some Archmage-tryhard he was,_ Medivh thought.

Tobias, innocent as they came, looked into Medivh’s dark eyes. “Please let me go. I’ve done nothing wrong.”

Medivh understood the man’s fear and confusion, having linked the effects of the orb’s magic with Tobias’s answers. He had popped into existence with a mind that had been anchored to one location and moment – one from twenty years ago. It did not correspond to being in Karazhan’s dungeons now. Thus, Tobias was confused.  But there was so much more Medivh wanted to know. What changes had occurred to the cells of his body, the state of his health and the plasticity of his brain? Medivh had never de-aged someone by pulling a version of them from the past and fusing that with their present self. There was a bit of maths involved with the age Medivh had intended and the one he’d ended up with. Too many variables had come up when he’d been using the orb and as this magic became unfamiliar, he found he could not slow it. It reached its end purpose and then was done. Irreversible, though the target could always grow younger…

Medivh tilted his head to the side, smiling softly. “Why, of course you haven’t.” Atiesh materialised in his left hand and he leaned on it to rise from his seat. Standing before the mage (whose clothes had also changed, he realized) Medivh ran his fingers through Tobias’s shoulder length hair. “But I cannot let you go.”

“Why not?!” Tobias’s voice held an edge to it, hysterical and panicked. Medivh clenched his hand and forced Tobias’s head back, holding him by the hair and exposing his slender throat. “Ah!! Ka-”

“No.” Medivh silenced him with a spell directed through his fingers, into the man’s skull. Any attacks Tobias was thinking of were scrambled and his eyes grew unfocussed. “You will stay here. I have a few experiments in mind.”

Tobias’s comprehension had been reduced to nothing and Medivh knew he would be little more than a drooling mess for the next few hours. Such was the power of the Guardian’s magic.

“Don’t worry.” said Medivh, lightly trailing his fingers across a sharp cheekbone. “You will heal.” He placed Atiesh against the nearby wall and took a scalpel from the top of the fireplace. With a single word, the tip burned hot. Medivh sat in Tobias’s lap and pinned him into absolute stillness with another spell. He pressed the scalpel to the mage’s right temple. Then he began to cut.

 

Khadgar’s focus on a paragraph of incantations was interrupted by raw, visceral shrieking. It was muffled, but unmistakably the instinctual cry of a human in pain. His brows shot up, drawn together with concern. Could Medivh be in trouble? He’d never heard him raise his voice for anything other than powerful spells. Rising from his seat, he walked out of the library and stood in the middle of the stairway. He pressed both hands to the wall and then his ear joined them. Karazhan’s magic was familiar to him yet its messages were complex to decipher and not yet second nature. He thought to himself, _‘Is Medivh in danger?’_

Knowledge came to him, assured and truthful. _‘From the one he has just brought into Karazhan, no.’_ Medivh was a danger to himself when Sargeras urged him to lobotomize living people, but Tobias could not hurt him. Khadgar stood up straight.

 _‘Someone’s in the tower? I… I want to see who it is.’_ Determined to find out what was going on, Khadgar levitated down the stairs at top speed. He passed Moroes, who gave him a strange look. There was no time to stop – Khadgar could hear soft cries and wet gargling noises. Upon reaching the summoning room he realized there were no stairs to go down, yet something was happening down below… perhaps there was a secret passage? He felt along the walls, looked for spots of weakness or enchantment in the floors, but everything seemed fine and he could not distinguish anything suspicious. The summoning room was as it had always been. Brimming with arcane and natural energies.

Underground, Medivh was nearly cackling with delight. He’d removed Tobias’s brain to get his scalpel into the deepest crevices and had it floating in the air. Using the orb, he’d made a precise time shift and de-aged the man by an hour. His brain had grown back, and Medivh’s dazing, stilling enchantments had disappeared! Medivh could take as many of the mage’s organs out as he liked and using the orb, could return the body to a state where it was in one piece again. He’d not had a breakthrough like this in quite some time! After he was done messing around, he summoned up some jars to place the various squishy bits into. He could experiment on them later, now seeing fit to chain Tobias in a cell and leave him with some food. Alert, whole and absolutely terrified, Tobias curled into a ball and wept. Medivh teleported up to the observatory, where he made room on the bookshelves for his jars of _things_. He loved to work up here where the air was clear and natural sunlight granted him proper sight. Since he was working with magically altered bits and pieces, he didn’t want to risk tainting anything by having sorcerous flames held too close. Of course, elemental magic was as natural as could be but it was magic nonetheless. Aside from Medivh’s own teleportation signature, the jars contained only timewarped organic material. They were ready to be picked apart and studied, but Medivh did not wish to sink himself into research now. He was a little peckish, and decided to relax alone with his thoughts. Moroes checked on him and offered some pastries and tea, which Medivh took in silence. Khadgar was nowhere to be seen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao Medivh on some nek level putricide shit right here XDDD  
> The Guardian is ever in the pursuit of knowledge. HMHM.  
> Medivh: I DO WHAT I WANT *breakdances*


	5. Chapter 5

The next day, Medivh was flipping through one of his spellbooks when Khadgar approached, clutching his own in one hand.

“Oh, hello.” Medivh raised his head and flashed a bright smile at his apprentice. “What’s on your mind?”

“I heard some strange noises yesterday…” Khadgar stepped a little closer, glancing to the orb Medivh had floating atop Atiesh, which rested against a nearby bookshelf. “And, uh… people have come back to that camp with the Kirin Tor banners around it. You know, the one in that valley down there.” He gestured out the window, but Medivh did not look. Instead, the Guardian continued to smile in that unsettlingly serene way that he did.

“And?”

“Shouldn’t we investigate?”

“No.” Medivh casually turned a page, turning his eyes back to his book. “They can’t enter Karazhan and I will ensure that you come to no harm.” He had a thought then and looked to Khadgar’s spellbook. It showed signs of heavy use and for that, Medivh was glad. His beloved Young Trust was a diligent study. “Have you been keeping up with your Abjuration practise?”

“Y-yes, but…”

“Wonderful. Show me.” Medivh shooed Khadgar over to the space between two tall bookshelves. Khadgar stood and looked at the ancient tomes lining the shelves on either side of him. This was going to test his control.

_‘What if my shield reacts to one of the trapped books in here? What’s going ot happen?’_ Khadgar narrowed his eyes. Medivh was watching him and he could not fail. All thoughts about yesterday’s muffled shrieking below ground and the Violet Eye spies returning were pushed out of his head as equations flashed across his eyes. He demonstrated a small mana shield for Medivh, who asked him to widen it. Khadgar had to concentrate extra hard to make sure the bookshelves were enveloped in the shield and not pushed away by it. He could feel traps quivering, waiting to be sprung. Carefully, he spread his arms out. Medivh tossed a bolt of ice at him and Khadgar winced as it bounced off the shield.

“Good.” Medivh nodded and Khadgar dispelled the shield, familiar weariness setting in. “Tired already?”

“No, no.” Khadgar saw Medivh write something in his book, as if he was keeping note of his apprentice’s stamina. “I can do more, if you like.”

“Certainly not in here. The library is no place for practise, Young Trust.” Medivh winked like he spoke of grand wisdom despite having given the order to cast in here himself. “Show me your sigils, now.”

Khadgar obeyed naturally and picked up a piece of chalk from the desk near Medivh. Writing implements were strewn about everywhere, but Khadgar usually tried to gather them onto this one table. Somehow, particular quills and bits of charcoal went missing from time to time, as if they could move on their own. S P O O K Y.

Bending down with his back to Medivh, Khadgar took his time drawing a circle of warding, something crucial to his Abjuration studies. It was easier than holding up a shield and functioned as excellent protection against demons. Khadgar made it so the sigil formed the base of a cylinder of magical energy, the inside of which was secure. Once Khadgar was done, he went to stand but felt something press against his lower back. Medivh nudged him and he fell face first into the sigil, the purple aura splashing about his form. He scrambled to his feet and stood in the sigil, face bright red.

“Medivh!”

“What?” Medivh had a shit eating grin on his face. “I was checking the strength and speed of the detection formula.”

“Nyeeeeeeh…” Khadgar whined and soon moved out of the sigil’s protection, observing as Medivh poked at it. The Magus’s hand did not go all the way through, and Khadgar realized the sigil’s aura was resisting him. He raised an eyebrow. “Uh… did I do it wrong?”

Medivh said nothing. _‘His warding magics are already quite strong.’_

**‘ _You must be careful.’_**

Khadgar deactivated the sigil, too unnerved by the sight of anti-demon magic resisting his pure and wholesome Master. Medivh had an unreadable expression on his face, his posture sinking into that of a brooding old man. He was silent, and stared at nothing.

Khadgar left him to his thoughts.

After minding his own business for a few hours, studying and managing to conjure some water in a glass, Khadgar stood up and walked into another sitting room. This one had a distinct red and gold colour scheme with thin, gauzy curtains covering a wide arched window. Deadwind Pass looked the same as it always did. The Violet Eye spies were still down in their camp doing Light knows what. Khadgar had not interacted with anyone outside of Karazhan in so, so long… and was beginning to forget the nuances of communication with the outside world. Though he wished to ask the spies what they were doing here, he was deathly afraid of the Kirin Tor’s wrath that they seemed to carry. The mage he’d faced a month ago had been adept in the Arcane, moreso than Khadgar who could only defend himself for short periods of time. A ten year old apprentice could not possibly survive a battle with eight adult archmagi if they chose to turn against him. He leaned against the window, mildly perturbed.

_‘I wish I could do that scrying thing Medivh does… I want to see what’s going on down there!’_ His curiosity tugged him in the direction of a nearby bookshelf – every room in Karazhan seemed to have one – and looked for a tome on the art of Divination. He pulled out one that made a hollow rattling sound and tried to open it. All the pages were stuck together. Khadgar took the book and sat down opposite the window, laying the book on the low table before him. With daylight to aid his conquest, he set about prying the book open. He usually carried a small satchel of things around, mostly lockpicking tools and curious objects he found around Karazhan. Khadgar slid the tip of a small chisel under the book’s thick, leatherbound cover and started to slice. As the task was menial and laborious, he did not have to concentrate much on it. He instead directed his mental focus to pulling a nice, warm ball of rainbow magical energy into his mind. It soothed him, having this energy ready to do his bidding, to form a spell if he so desired. He let it wash over the book and found no wards or traps set against him. This was simply glued together. After fifteen minutes Khadgar popped open the book and gasped. Every page had been drenched in glue and a centimeter in from the edges, a rectangular hole had been cut in the center of the book. It functioned like a sturdy box. The writing was illegible, ink having been smeared long ago. Khadgar caught the scent of vanilla and musty parchment, a little dust rising from the book-box. But that was nothing out of the ordinary. What he saw in the box definitely was. A mixture of multicoloured gems, rocks, and grains of sand rattled around in the square hole. Khadgar picked them out one by one, sorting them in piles of opacity, type and colour.

_‘I wonder what these are for?’_ he thought, knowing of course that they were material components for many types of spells. But he suspected these hidden, well preserved stones had a particular purpose and he sought to find out. He left everything for a moment, running into the library to retrieve the _Geological Compendiums I_ through _III_ for this. Now he had something truly distracting and sank himself into identifying each little thing he had found. The sand he emptied from the box into a pile and made sure not to let it blow anywhere. It was so fine and crystalline that it looked more like cocaine than sand. Not that Khadgar knew what that was. In the compendiums, he couldn’t find any information on what it was. So, later that evening after dinner he decided to ask Medivh.

“I found this.” said Khadgar, showing his Master a conjured glass vial full of the sand. “What is it?”

“Arcane dust, of course. Have you been crushing mana crystals?”

Khadgar shook his head as Medivh took the vial from him. After a bit of inspection, Medivh poured the vial’s contents into his hand and sprinkled it over Khadgar, who sneezed.

“This is the powdered form of mana, and it can regenerate your strength just as well as the potions can. You can mix it with various substances and boil it into all sorts of concoctions.” Medivh licked some of the remaining dust off his hand and then gave Khadgar the empty vial. “Would you like to see?”

“Yes, but…” Khadgar peered up at Medivh “I don’t have any more.”

“Luckily for you, I do.” Medivh took Khadgar into his laboratory, which was usually locked up for the boy’s own safety. Inside, the floor was of bluish grey slate and all sorts of equipment lined the walls. On the floor was a glowing white circle with runes around the edge, and Medivh quickly explained that it helped him to focus his power when imbuing items with magic. Khadgar much enjoyed the lesson his Master gave him about basic alchemy, and saw how mana crystals (the same kind that grew in Medivh’s pool) could be crushed into sparkling white dust. His educational focus for the week was directed towards potion-making, a nice change from the brainmelting complexity of studying the Arcane. Here, there were set amounts of things he had to measure and prepare and then mix. There was precision instead of variables and Khadgar was most comfortable with it. Often, Medivh’s guidance saved him from ruining a delicate composition. He did not fear wasting materials and followed both written and verbal instructions well, making very few mistakes.

After five days, Khadgar had grown confident in using his magic to liquefy things and was engrossed in his work when a sound distracted him. He turned and saw Medivh holding a knife, having just popped off the seal from a rolled up letter. The Magus’s light green eyes flicked up and he watched Khadgar stare at him for three seconds. He then indicated for him to continue with his work. Khadgar turned, now wondering about that letter. He hadn’t seen Medivh reading any of those lately.

Medivh cast a bit of light from Atiesh, which floated beside him, and read the letter. It was from his good friend King Llane, who had been giving him advice about Khadgar over the past few years. Llane had a son of his own, Varian, who was half Khadgar’s age. He seemed to know how to deal with children.

 

_How has he been?_

 

Medivh smiled as he read the second sentence beneath the cursory greeting. Llane’s curiosity was endearing.

 

_I’ve been wondering about your little apprentice. It seems he hasn’t changed a bit, always interested in everything that’s going on. It’s good of you to protect him, Medivh. Especially with folk from the Kirin Tor camping on your doorstep! When you told me about their inquisition I must say, I considered ordering Antonidas himself to withdraw his people. Still, it’s none of my business and I do think you hold your own quite well. Speaking of which, I hope you have been in good health. Nightmares and fatigue do not bode well for anyone, Guardian or not. If you have need, you are welcome in Stormwind where many of our clerics can assist you. Feeling angry one minute and saddened the next is a mark of possession, you know. I wouldn’t want any of your magics to somehow have turned against you! You know I love you, Medivh. Please be safe, and write back soon._

Two thoughts warred in Medivh’s head.

_‘He is concerned. Oh, Llane, you pure cinnamon roll…’_

**_‘He suspects my presence! You have divulged far too much in your long distance therapy sessions! Kill him! KILL HIM! KILL HIM!’_ **

The letter fell into Medivh’s lap as he ran his hands back through his hair, trying to make it look as if he wasn’t clutching his head in pain. He didn’t have to have his eyes open to know that Khadgar was watching him in the reflection of a glass container. Abruptly he stood and turned away, leaving at once. Khadgar had his instructions, he knew what to do. Medivh had to be alone before Sargeras tore him apart. Halfway down the hall as he was fighting the thoughts, corruption and consumption, a sudden blackness filled his mind. He staggered, braced himself against the wall and almost fell down the stairs.

“…..?” It came again, thumping with his heartbeat that seemed to have stopped. When he opened his eyes (when had he closed them?) he found himself sitting, limp like a ragdoll. His shoulder leaned uncomfortably against the hard stone wall. Now it ached, and he glanced at the shadow cast beneath a window further downstairs. About an hour had passed.

**_‘Your might will fail one day.’_** Sargeras sounded like a petulant child. **_‘And I will have you.’_**

_‘Over my dead body.’_ Medivh turned and slowly trudged up the stairs, feeling magically and physically drained. While he went to take a dive in the mana pool (Khadgar would come for him eventually, and attend him if needed) his apprentice pored over the letter he’d left behind. Khadgar sat at one of the metal topped desks, eyes bugging out of his head.

_‘Medivh has been writing about me to the King of Stormwind?!’_ That was the first thing he noticed. Despite having not left Karazhan and been denied contact with the news-bringing messengers that came monthly, he still knew who was in charge. Terenas II in Lordaeron, Llane Wrynn in Stormwind, Antonidas in Dalaran… Alright, so he didn’t know _everyone_. But the most recently published books in the library along with the journals recovered from the Violet Eye said enough about the local politics. As he read and reread the letter, he became privy to what had been going on with Medivh. Nightmares and mood swings? Khadgar had seen those for himself. But if they troubled Medivh enough for him to ask for help… or write in a manner that made others concerned for him…

_‘This is serious. No wonder he’s been so different lately. This stress of his must have been building for the past few years, and I haven’t known a thing! Why has he been hidin- wait. Possession. Could it be that he really is possessed?’_ He dismissed the thought as soon as it had come. He didn’t want to think about that. Medivh was the only safety and comfort that he knew, and Khadgar couldn’t fathom living away from him (as one did when demons were involved). This had been his life, this existence in Karazhan with his intelligent, mysterious and moody Master. Outside, the Kirin Tor were waiting for him. Medivh had never caused him any harm, and Antonidas had threatened to skin him alive with a thousand magical knives. This was definitely the safer option.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I fought as hard as I could to keep from writing Antonidas as the antagonist (antagonidas lmao) but in the end it seemed like the right thing to do. Fear is a powerful motivator that drives even the most serene of Archmages to abandon reason and patience. You know, with that orb, Khadgar could destroy the entire world... Antonidas's magic undo button is never gonna come back to him lmao  
> Just in case you were wondering 'he threaten smol child???' yeah. angry old man is frighten


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We learn about Medivh's opinions on the Orcs...

Two years had passed, and today on a fine Spring morning Medivh caved in to a longstanding request. Llane had requested a personal visit and Medivh could evade no longer. Though appearing in public drew upon strength he felt he did not have, he did not wish to upset his friend. Medivh took a long soak in the mana pool, listening to Khadgar pace back and forth.

“Oh, I’m so excited!” Khadgar squealed, nearly tripping over his own feet. “I’ve never been to Stormwind before! Master, what kind of stuff do they have over there?” He’d been practising using the correct title for Medivh in public so he did not accidentally do a faux pas. “Do they have books? Crystals? Doughnuts?”

“Of course they do.” Medivh rolled his eyes, groaning softly. “Stormwind is a city just like any other.”

“Mheeee~ I wonder if there are magi over there!” Khadgar did a little twirl, the flared bottom of his dark blue tunic swishing about. Tiny silver sparkles followed the intricate embroidery on the hem. Medivh drew his hands up with mana dripping through his fingers and rubbed the sides of his head.

“Ngh… fetch me a few vials, will you?”

“Okay!” Khadgar obediently took some from the nearest shelf and set them at the edge of the pool. Medivh filled each one with mana and floated them up to Khadgar.

“Find some corks. I will need this energy for our journey.”

Khadgar did as told and gave Medivh some blessed peace. Still, the wise and friendly man inside the half possessed Magus smiled. Khadgar’s excitement was contagious, despite Medivh only feeling a quarter of it. Mana dripped through his greying sideburns and white streaked beard. His internal struggles had made him look much older than he truly was. And he’d never even gotten to fully experience being a young adult in the first place. Medivh tried not to look at his own face as he scooped up some more reflective, glimmering mana and let it trickle down his bare arms. The stuff made his chest hair glitter and infused his skin with a sweet, ethereal scent. It was a mage thing.

Mana fabulosity aside, after an hour of soaking in the pool Medivh dressed himself in his favourite outfit, the red and black set of robes with the hooded, feathered cloak. He preened in the wall mounted mirror and made sure he looked every bit the sharp, intelligent and controlled Magus he liked people to believe he was. He could hide the demon-worn, desperate man for a time. That was what the mana was for. It helped him keep his mental strength in top shape.

“Come, Young Trust. We shall teleport to Stormwind now.” He beckoned, and Khadgar came running over to stand close by his side, carrying his own satchel plus a few extra things for Medivh. He wore a light grey tunic that fluttered around his thighs, a blue cloak a few shades darker than his eyes and tall brown boots. He would blend in with the middle class children in Stormwind easily. Medivh, on the other hand, chose to make a grand entrance and the minute he popped into the middle of Stormwind Keep with Khadgar at his side, he heard every single guard stand to attention. The blue and white blast had awoken King Llane, who’d been snoozing on his throne a few moments prior. Black raven feathers swirled down from the air above Medivh and he tapped Atiesh on the ornate, polished floor.

“Greetings, your Majesty.” Medivh executed a flourished bow that seriously hurt his back and then raised his head, knowing Khadgar did the same.

“Medivh!” Llane quickly gestured for his guards to calm down and stood, a slight flush at his cheeks and a smile reaching his eyes. “It’s so good to see you.” He cast propriety to the wind and strode the short distance between himself and his old friend to squeeze Medivh in a tight hug. Medivh quickly let Atiesh fall and Khadgar caught it, momentarily transfixed by the sheer power he felt pulsing in the staff. Llane cupped Medivh’s face and inspected him. “By the Light, you look stressed.”

“Well…” Medivh glanced at Khadgar with a jovial tone to his voice. “This little one here has been quite the challenge.” As Llane stepped back to take in the sight of Medivh and Khadgar together, Khadgar floundered for an appropriate response. He’d memorised the etiquette books (all five of them) that Medivh had made him read in the past week, but in this moment had nothing clever to say. So, he inclined his head and made a small, shy noise, peering at the King. Llane was quite handsome, with gentle curls of chocolate brown hair reaching his chin and a kind, knowing look in his eyes. He patted Khadgar on the head, as fondly as a family friend or close relative would.

“I’m glad to finally meet the esteemed apprentice Medivh has told me so much about. You are Khadgar, yes?”

“Y-yes, your Majesty.” Khadgar blinked a few times, nodding rapidly. Llane’s demeanor put him at ease somewhat, though Khadgar still worried about screwing up in public. He’d never been in a situation like this before, ever… and propriety was not something he was accustomed to.

“Come, both of you. I’m curious about what you two have been doing up in Karazhan that was so important you couldn’t drop by and say hello.” Llane gestured and Medivh walked beside him, Khadgar following too. They came to a comfortable sitting room with rich navy blue carpets and expensive looking furniture bathed in the sunlight from a nearby window. Midday market sounds could be heard faintly from outside, and Stormwind bustled with activity that made Khadgar curious as to what everyone was doing. He had very few memories of walking amongst the common folk, seeing how other people lived their lives, and wanted to know _everything_. He sat beside Medivh and listened as his Master spoke with Llane, who relaxed in a nearby armchair. The two clearly had history he knew little of, and Khadgar remembered that he only needed to speak when spoken to. Medivh’s calm, deep voice was as soothing as ever to Khadgar, and it was clear he was at ease when around King Llane.

“So!” said Llane, gazing at Khadgar. “What has Medivh been teaching you?”

Khadgar glanced at Medivh, who raised an eyebrow and made a tiny gesture with his head.

“I, ah… I’ve been learning about defensive spells, recently. Master says it’s important for safety reasons.”

“Hmm, and right he is. Defending will save you far better than attacking will, I know that for sure. What do you want to do with your magic, Khadgar?”

“I want to be really good at it!” Khadgar nodded, his eyes glowing just a little.

“Just like me.” Medivh nudged Khadgar who blushed and let a smile brighten his face.

“Awww.” Llane found the two absolutely precious and clasped his hands together. “I’m sure Medivh will teach you well. We could all learn something from him, I think.”

“Oh?” Medivh eyed Llane with mild suspicion. He couldn’t guess where this was going, and it worried him just a bit. “Other than magic, I’m afraid there’s not much I can do.”

“Nonsense!” Llane threw a balled up tissue at Medivh, who easily levitated it and without even moving a finger, formed a perfectly folded crane. It twirled down onto the table and sat there, pristine. “Your patience and wisdom are both legendary. I could use a bit of your insight myself.”

“Regarding what?” Medivh stiffened just a bit and Khadgar, who was leaning on him slightly, felt it.

“The Orcs. Nearly all the Eastern Kingdoms are beset by these big green monstrosities and it seems you’re the only one who can save us.”

Medivh did not want Khadgar to hear about this but now the boy was interested and he could not think of a way to tell Llane _“not in front of my apprentice!”._ So it was with a resigned sigh that he prepared himself for manipulative conversational chess and folded his arms.

“What exactly do you want me to do? I’m an old man, Llane. Keep to my tower and books. It’s not in my nature to meddle with races on the brink of war.”

**_‘It’s exactly your nature, you cretin. Good on you for lying to your King.’_ **

_‘That was not me! Heck off, Sargeras. I need to concentrate…’_

Llane frowned. “Come now, you are the same age as I and have twice the knowledge on participating in combat without suffering injury.”

“I’m a spellcaster, that’s kind of what we do…” Medivh hoped he didn’t have to explain the whole ranged dps thing to Llane, who was more of a warrior type. Perhaps he was salty about getting sliced up in battle wearing full armor, while Medivh could dance around in robes and live to see another day. “What would you ask of me, in terms of the orcs?”

“Why, kill them all, of course. It would stop the raiding and the unnecessary deaths of my people, along with just about everyone else in Azeroth…”

“Out of the question.” Medivh cut the air with a firm hand to the side, nearly smacking Khadgar in the face. Eyes wide, Khadgar watched the exchange with great interest. “You’re asking genocide, Llane.” Medivh said softly. “I cannot agree to that.”

Khadgar had never heard that word before but knew to keep his mouth shut – tensions were rising. Medivh continued before Llane could draw breath.

“The Orcs live on Azeroth too, and as you know, my duty as the Guardian of Azeroth is to ensure everyone survives in peace.”

“Medivh!” Llane was aghast. “You would let the Orcs live on our land?”

“Ehh…” Medivh looked away. “Not in Stormwind specifically, I mean, there is Kalimdor, Northrend, uh…”

“Azeroth belongs to-”

“To nobody. No-one owns this world, no person, no race, no singular power…” Medivh’s eyes had darkened and his lips barely moved as he spoke. “All deserve the right to live, no matter how they go about their survival. I know of the Orcs, Llane, and war is their way. They have no gold, no common language with us, only their hunger and their weapons and their families. They starve and raid villages to rectify that, for none will hand over bread and wine for free. They kill whoever stands in the way of their survival, and for me to just wipe them out with magic… after all they have done, it would not be fair.”

“After all they have done? You mean, the mindless slaughter and pillaging, and they still do not deserve death?” Llane was angry now and Khadgar found himself afraid. “I have never known you to be so soft to outsiders, Medivh…”

“Oh, Llane.” Medivh shook his head. “You do not know what the Orcs have been through to grab this foothold in Azeroth, and resist being exterminated by the Eastern Kingdoms’ combined might.”

“And you know? Have you spoken with them, then?” Llane was a few words away from calling Medivh a traitor. Medivh simply looked into the King’s eyes and spoke, deathly calm.

“I simply know things. It is my way.”

 _‘Whoa! He’s so cool!’_ Khadgar thought to himself, amazed at how Medivh could diffuse a conversation just by saying _“I’m the Guardian, I know shit, now you have to deal with it.”._

Llane’s brows rose and then fell. He sighed, running a hand back through his hair.

“So you will not aid us?”

“In exterminating the Orcs as if they were a cloud of insects? No, I will not. But if you wish for magical protection around Stormwind then I can help with that.”

“Please.” Llane nodded, standing. “As soon as you can, if you will. Even as we speak, my people fear having to survive a siege. Not even the trade routes are safe…” He took Medivh and Khadgar along the ramparts of Stormwind Keep, where the guards bowed and respectfully stepped out of the way. Medivh learned about how Stormwind was coping with the Orcish invasion and remembered everything, going over the knowledge in his head that night. In the guest room he shared with Khadgar, it was warm and quiet. Khadgar was already asleep in his lap and Medivh sat with his thoughts, absently stroking his fingers through his apprentice’s hair. He’d not heard Khadgar’s opinion on the orcish situation yet, and was not yet ready to introduce the boy to the conflict he himself was orchestrating. Tomorrow, he was sure there would be questions. There always were.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> medivh does a sleep

Khadgar and Medivh stayed in Stormwind for a few days, Medivh taking his time with warding the entire city against magical attacks. While the Magus worked, Khadgar wandered the streets and explored every secret passageway he could find. He was turned away by a few guards when he strayed too far, but no-one hurt him and for that he was glad. He had a feeling Medivh would kill anyone who bothered him. Unfounded, but there nonetheless.

On the fourth day, Khadgar was sitting in the keep’s library when he heard footsteps approach. He looked up to see a little round face peeping at him from behind a bookshelf, and upon being noticed, the owner of the face strode into view.

“Mage!” said the child, none other than prince Varian, Llane’s five year old son. “What are you reading?”

Khadgar held up the book, _A History of Stormwind’s Kings._ “This.”

“Ah, I know that one!” Varian wandered close to Khadgar and climbed into his lap, as if Khadgar was a chair he owned and adored. “My father’s in it.”

“Of course, because he’s the King. You will be in here one day too, you know.” Khadgar set the book where Varian could look at it, but the prince was more interested in talking to him.

“When I’m King, I’ll kill all the Orcs.” Varian made a stabbing motion and poked Khadgar in the chest. “You can be my court conjurer. You _can_ do magic, right?”

“Yeah, I can!” Khadgar made the book hover and Varian looked mildly impressed. “Want to see something cool?”

“Show me! Show me!” Varian tugged at Khadgar’s tunic and gasped as purple light formed in Khadgar’s hands. Very carefully, Khadgar spoke a sentence of incantations and in ten seconds, had conjured a single chocolate cookie. It was sweet and crumbly, the only type of food Khadgar was able to perfectly craft. He often made these when alone and too absorbed in whatever he was doing to go and ask for a snack. Varian snatched the floating cookie out of the air and then looked at Khadgar.

“I can eat it, right?”

“Sure. It’s good food, just magical.”

Varian chewed on the cookie and smiled at Khadgar. “It’s nice!” He gave Khadgar a squeezy hug and decided to stay sitting on him, asking heaps of questions about all the types of magic Khadgar could do. Khadgar, having had no interactions with anyone remotely close to his own age in the past few years, happily demonstrated. After a time Varian leaned back and put his hands on Khadgar’s shoulders.

“I like you. You’re an official mage now, okay? So make sure you visit often.”

Blushing, Khadgar nodded. “Of course, your Highness.”

Varian gave a pleased little squeak and then jumped off Khadgar’s lap, looking as majestic as he possibly could.

“Duty calls!” he exclaimed, and then ran off. Khadgar found himself smiling.

 _‘He’s so cute. I wonder if I was like that when I was younger? Medivh certainly seemed to think so. And he still does, ehehehe... I wonder if he’s finished with that barrier? Let’s go and see.’_ Khadgar exited the library and went looking for his Master, only to find him three hours later sitting in the keep’s gardens. There were no guards here, strangely enough. Medivh was feeding some birds a handful of seeds, and Khadgar raised an eyebrow upon seeing him eat some of them himself. Medivh suddenly turned and looked awfully embarrassed, chewing on birdseed as if he were one of the feathered creatures himself. He swallowed, sprinkling the remaining seed down for the doves and sparrows to enjoy.

“Young Trust. I was wondering where you’d run off to.”

Khadgar went and sat beside Medivh, admiring the birds and flowers in this peaceful, secluded space. “Just looking around, I suppose. Have you finished with the barrier?”

“Yes. It will be enough to keep demons and warlocks at bay, though if any are summoned within Stormwind’s walls, they won’t be able to get out either.” Medivh turned to his apprentice, a sparrow that was sitting on his head cheeping at him. “Wards are an important part of your abjuration studies. Test the ones I put up.”

“Okay…” Khadgar closed his eyes and reached with his mind for the magical wards encircling Stormwind. He felt that they were in a domed shape and shimmered in response to his probing. Good, strong energy was all around in a defensive barrier, though it did not infuse the air within the city. It was like a sheet that magical miscreants could not tear open, at least not the weaker ones. Khadgar opened his eyes. “It’s good.”

“Naturally. My magic never fails.” Medivh rubbed Khadgar’s shoulder affectionately, hugging him close to his side. “It’s why I’m the Guardian.”

Khadgar noticed, as he always did, the saddened tone in Medivh’s voice whenever he spoke of his occupation.

“Master,” Khadgar reached out and pet one of the nearby doves. It seemed to trust him. “Do you like being the Guardian?”

“No,” said Medivh softly. “I do not.” The firm set of his jaw and brow told Khadgar not to probe further, and though it burned the young mage to know why his prestigious and capable Master disliked his duty, every instinct told him to stay quiet. So he did, and kept Medivh company until one of Stormwind’s resident magi approached.

“Guardian, the effectiveness of the barrier has been proven to the King. Stormwind thanks you for your service.”

Medivh nodded and got to his feet, making sure not to disturb the birds who chirped at him in farewell.

“Alright, then. Do inform him that urgent business calls me back to Karazhan. Kind regards.” Medivh mumbled quickly and then drew a point of blue light with his left index finger and thumb. Khadgar saw the sigil appearing beneath his feet and so did the mage, who nodded and backed away. One teleport later, Medivh was back in his observatory and Khadgar was sprawled on the floor. Khadgar got to his feet at once, alarmed.

“M-Medivh, what was that? Urgent business?”

Medivh, who’d quite liked being called _Master_ during their time in Stormwind, sighed.

“Forgive me, Young Trust. My energy… wears thin.” He produced the three empty vials Khadgar had filled in the mana pool. “I need time to… be.” The entire time he was in Stormwind, Sargeras had been hammering away at his will in a desperate attempt to take control. As a result, Medivh had had to resist appearing crazy and aggressive – something he never wanted Llane to see. Now, the terrible titan had backed away and Medivh was left feeling empty and exhausted. “Excuse me.” He fled to his private chambers and didn’t even bother to change his clothes, collapsing into bed with a quiet groan. Khadgar followed him and watched for a few seconds, before realizing Medivh was not breathing.

“!!!” Khadgar climbed onto the bed and put his hands on Medivh’s chest. There was no rise and fall, and only the slightest whisper of air passed through his Master’s thin lips. Ah, so he _was_ breathing, but…

Footsteps passed in the hallway outside and Khadgar turned to see the shadow of Moroes.  
“Moroes!” Khadgar called, and the servant paused. “What’s wrong with him?”

“Didn’t he tell you?” asked Moroes, peering through Khadgar with a hollow gaze. “He’ll be fine. Just needs a bit of rest.”

Khadgar had no idea what afflicted Medivh other than exhaustion, and could not understand. Perhaps the teleports and warding had tired him to the point of needing a few days’ sleep? Or maybe it was something else… Khadgar had been playing with his own magic while in Stormwind and wasn’t tired in the slightest. Now, his heart pounded and every muscle in his body was tense. He lay next to Medivh and shivered, doing his best to sense that the Magus was still alive.

Over the next few days, Khadgar observed as Moroes attended to the seemingly comatose Medivh, feeding him broth so he did not waste away during his long sleep. In repose Medivh looked ghastly, the light gone out of his shuttered eyes, no signs of life on his face. Paler than usual and looking thin and haggard, it was as if all his former energy had gone into seeming otherwise. Khadgar knew, though, that this was not normal. Medivh was usually so animated and lively, when he was not sullen and brooding. It remained a mystery why he required such a lengthy period of rest. Khadgar had never heard of magi doing this before. But then again, Medivh was not any ordinary mage. He was the Guardian of Azeroth, the esteemed Lord Magus, and Khadgar’s beloved Master. So, Khadgar stayed by his side, occupying himself with reading some of the books on the nearby shelves. Moroes brought food for him too, and didn’t say a word. Khadgar missed Medivh’s voice at night, and found it difficult to sleep when his mind was well and truly _woke_. What-ifs circled his head at all hours of the day and he could barely concentrate on practising his spells.

After a week of uncertainty and inner torment, Medivh opened his eyes. He sat up, displacing Khadgar who had been laying on his chest.

“Young Trust?” His voice was clear and curious. “What are you doing here? It’s the middle of the day.” Indeed it was, though how Medivh knew, Khadgar had no clue. The curtains in the room were closed.

“Medivh!” Khadgar wrapped his arms around Medivh’s waist. “You’re awake! Finally!” As he buried his face in his Master’s chest, he could feel Medivh laughing softly.

“Of course I am. Didn’t I tell you, I only needed to rest awhile?” Medivh’s hand came to pat Khadgar on the back.

“Mmngghgngh…” Khadgar whined a bit, squeezing Medivh a bit tighter.

“Come now… there’s no need for that. Don’t tell me you’ve been here all this time?” Medivh had estimated needing a week’s rest and as usual, was right. Khadgar nuzzled him affectionately, overcome with relief that everything was alright.

“I didn’t want you to be alone.” _‘And I did’t want to be, either.’_

“Aw.” Medivh’s gentle smile told Khadgar all was truly fine and perhaps even that he appreciated his company. “Well then, it’s time both of us found something else to do. I’m quite bored of simply laying here, aren’t you? Come! Let’s go learn something new.” The colour had returned to his face and his presence once again filled the room with familiarity, comfort and life. He took Khadgar to the library and together, they worked on some mind-bending arcane studies. All was well in Karazhan.

Until the Legion came.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't beta anything so if I left in something like *insert picture of [location] here* just tell me ahah

Khadgar was thirteen when he saw his first demon, a dark red creature of shadow and flame with massive black horns and glowing green eyes. The thing was a vision, and not actually present in Karazhan, but damn did it feel real. Khadgar gaped as fire licked at the ground where Medivh walked. This vision was rare in that Khadgar got to experience it with his Master by his side, there to protect him against things that could not harm him. Medivh did not seem to notice Khadgar however and was entirely focussed on the demon, who perched himself in a tree made of twisting tentacles and sharp bones. It turned its head to the left, and pointed.

- _ARGUS CALLS.-_

The voice came out of nowhere and while Khadgar heard it in Common, Medivh understood in Demonic. The Magus clicked his fingers twice and the demon looked at him. Khadgar gasped.

 _‘What…? It sees him? D…does it see me too?’_ He crept close to Medivh and tugged on his sleeve. When Medivh turned, his eyes were black and his beard had caught fire. Gaunt and terrifying, he morphed into an indescribable aberration that made Khadgar cower in fear.

_-THE DECEIVER SUMMONS YOU.-_

Medivh’s attention went back to the demon and he spoke in a language Khadgar didn’t understand. The demon laughed, the sound scraping against Khadgar’s senses.

_-THERE IS NO ESCAPE.-_

Khadgar didn’t realise he had fainted until he woke, and Medivh was shaking him by the shoulder. Normal, slightly upset looking Medivh with no flames or spookiness about him.

“Ah, you’re awake. What on Azeroth were you casting, Young Trust?”

“N…nothing…” Khadgar’s eyes felt sticky and he blinked hard, rubbing them with his fingers. “I… I saw a demon…”

“A demon? Oh, dear. Come here.” Medivh gathered Khadgar into his arms and lifted him up, only to fall into a nearby chair with Khadgar on his lap. “It was just a vision. Don’t fret.” Khadgar melted into Medivh’s embrace, sniffling.

“I saw you… and you were talking to the demon…”

“Me? Surely not. Perhaps someone impersonating me. People do that a lot, you know.” Medivh gave no indication that he knew what was going on, though he pressed Khadgar’s face into his chest to soothe him… and also avoid eye contact.

Khadgar whimpered softly. “It was you… it… looked like you, but…” Then he shook his head. He didn’t want to remember. “Mediiiiivhhh…”

“Shh, shh…” Medivh’s deep sorrow was clear to see on his face and he held Khadgar like a parent would their child. “I won’t let any demons hurt you.”

Khadgar believed him, though the subsequent visions of demons over the next few months didn’t get any less horrifying. The worst came one cold wintry day when after breakfast, Medivh called Khadgar to the observatory with news.

“Young Trust.” said Medivh, standing before the brazier in the center of the room with a light blue sigil beneath his feet. “I have something important to do.”

“Ooh!” Khadgar approached and stood just by the outer edge of the sigil, gazing up at Medivh. “How can I help?”

Medivh looked pained, and even in this dire hour could not deceive his apprentice. “Listen carefully.” The glow in his eyes flickered as he blinked. “I have business that cannot be avoided, and it will take me over a year to look after. I will be sending you to Dalaran to continue your studies until I get back.”

The colour drained from Khadgar’s face, and whiter than the snow outside, he made a choked sound.

“N…no...”

“Antonidas will not hurt you, I will make sure of that. You will need to trust me, my apprentice, and know that I will return.”

“Where are you going? Why? Medivh, you…”

“Shh.” Medivh stepped out of the sigil, seeing Khadgar’s innocent face scrunch and redden. “I cannot tell you. But it is important work that I must do.”

“Don’t go.” said Khadgar, grabbing fistfuls of Medivh’s robes and holding on tight, begging with his entire being. “Please. Please, don’t go…”

“Young Trust…” Medivh closed his eyes and let the energy in the sigil hang there, relinquishing his hold on it so he could pay attention to his apprentice. “Neither of us have a choice in this matter. I must do this, and Dalaran is the safest place for a young mage like you to be. I have arranged for us to be there within the hour, so-”

“Nyeeeeeeeeeeehhh…!” Khadgar hid his face in his Master’s thick robes and wailed incoherently. The unknown loomed in front of him like the void that it was and he had absolutely no clue how he was going to survive without Medivh. His memories of Dalaran were hazy and negative at best. Yet somehow, Medivh trusted that everything was going to be fine…? Khadgar wanted to, but logic had fled and left him with raw, brutal emotions. Emotions he’d not had to face with this intensity ever before. He sobbed desperately into Medivh’s strong, stoic figure and couldn’t keep himself from shaking.

“Come now, there’s no need for that.” said Medivh quietly. “Pull yourself together. You will be making a first impression on Antonidas when we get there – your things are packed, I’ve written a few new things in your spellbook… Young Trust, are you listening to me?” His face grew stern. _“Khadgar.”_

Khadgar looked up, tears trickling down his face.

“I’m not going to die, I will return in about a year or two, and you will have much knowledge to occupy yourself with in Dalaran… things that even I might not know. You’ll meet new people, make friends, do all the things someone your age should be doing.”

“B..but I don’t… want to…” Khadgar whimpered, wiping his face on the fabric he clung to. “I want to stay here, with you…”

“But you can’t, because I have something to do and you can’t be left alone here by yourself. You’ll go mad. So!” Medivh stepped back into the sigil, eyes glowing once more. Khadgar nearly fell over and released his Master’s robes, noticing that beside the sigil was a brand new leather satchel that probably contained his personal items and a link to the storage portal. Medivh would never send him anywhere unprepared. “Pick up your things and look alive. We’re going to the Violet Citadel.”

Khadgar did not feel as if he was present in the moment as he took the satchel, looped it over one shoulder and muttered a quick illusion to make his face look like the perfect mask of neutrality. Dressed in the usual fancy robes he wore when getting ready for a day of study and spellcasting, he looked at Medivh. Medivh beckoned, seeing through the illusion and reinforcing it with his own magic. He did not want to prolong this moment of hesitation at all and the second Khadgar reached for him, he grabbed the boy’s hand and teleported them both into the Violet Citadel. It was in a room high in one of the citadel’s towers that Antonidas stepped backwards and nearly died from the shock of seeing Medivh.

“Guardian-”

Antonidas froze, his face twisted in sudden anguish. Medivh slowly drew the Orb of Temporal Displacement out from a pocket in his robes and grinned fiendishly as he brought into being the Antonidas of eight years ago. Memories vanished and current events were no longer known to the slightly younger looking Archmage. Medivh made sure to hide the orb once its task was done, and Antonidas blinked a few times, looking around. After a long moment of silence, he looked at Medivh.

“Guardian! What have you done?”

“I’ve brought you up here for a chat, Archmage.” Medivh shrugged and Antonidas said nothing, bewildered. He’d not felt any sort of magic a few moments ago that could have teleported him anywhere, but… this was Medivh. Rarely did things make sense with him.

“Well, then.” Antonidas turned gracefully and sat on one of the two couches in the room. This was a place for quiet reflection, meeting and study. He wondered how Medivh had managed to find it. “You may speak. But first… who is this?” He gestured to Khadgar, who withered under his sharp gaze. Antonidas seemed more confused and amiable than upset, but Khadgar was still a mess of angst and nerves.

“This is Khadgar, my apprentice. I have some things to attend to and as such will be absent from Karazhan for over a year. I would like him to study here and refine his skills. I’m sure you can agree that living alone in my tower would not be the best use of anyone’s time.”

“I wouldn’t mind, to be honest.” said Antonidas, folding his hands in his lap with a serene smile on his face. “There is much I could learn from simply being in your library. Speaking of knowledge, regarding the Song of Aegwynn-”

“No, you may not have it, because I am using it.” Medivh shook his head. “I am not here to talk about scrolls and loans. I want to hear, on your honour and humanity, that my apprentice will come to no harm during his time here.”

Antonidas furrowed his brows, his purple eyes fixing Khadgar with a worrisome stare. Then he looked at Medivh. “Why, of course! The Kirin Tor have kept the peace here for longer than even I have lived. Rest assured that no orcs or brigands will interrupt Khadgar’s studies.” For all the intelligence he possessed, he could not think of any specific danger that Medivh could be concerned about in Dalaran. Guards and wards were everywhere. Counterspells and reaction times were near infallible around here and Antonidas gave Khadgar his best, most reassuring smile. No emotion could be seen on the boy’s face. Antonidas’s face slackened.

“Is he quite alright?”

“Of course. He’s a little nervous, I suspect. Look alive, Khadgar.” Medivh nudged his apprentice, who stood straighter and gazed at Antonidas without meeting the archmage’s eyes.

“I look forward to studying here.” said Khadgar softly, inclining his head in a show of respect. Antonidas suspected something was up but did not remark upon it. Instead he rose from his seat and gestured with a thin, willowy hand.

“I am sure you will succeed. Any apprentice of the Guardian is welcome here. Come, there are spare quarters available.” Antonidas approached the door and Khadgar had to force himself to follow along, glancing back at Medivh. Medivh waved and mouthed the words, _farewell, Young Trust._

Khadgar’s eyes said what his lips would not. _I will miss you._

In the Violet Citadel, there were many tall towers linked by well lit passageways and staircases. One tower was home to the students of Dalaran, the other where lessons took place, and in another where members of the Magus Senate, the Kirin Tor lived. Khadgar caught sight of a list of rules inked in glowing white against a lilac colored wall.

_No fighting_

_No levitating, teleporting or unsafe blinking._

_No borrowing without permission_

_No cursing_

_No necromancy_

_No sleepovers_

Khadgar wondered what kind of people studied here if they had to be reminded that some of these things were not allowed. He did not ask, though. He didn’t even know how to levitate or do necromancy. The students hanging around in the circular corridors on each floor observed Antonidas and Khadgar as they climbed the steps. The glass staircase spiraled up in the center of the ringed hallways, and the dormitories were situated on the outside of those. On the seventh floor was where a single room had a purple Kirin Tor eye on the door, marking it as unoccupied.

“This is where you shall stay. Your schedule will arrive shortly, so keep an ear out for a knock at the door. Bathrooms are there,” Antonidas pointed to a white door set between two occupied rooms “and meals are taken downstairs in the banquet hall. If you have any questions, you may ask the city guardians or any of the older students. I unfortunately have much to do – an archmage’s work is never done.”

“I understand.” said Khadgar, voice as even as his illusory magic would let it be. “Thank you.”

Antonidas gave him an odd, almost resigned look and then disappeared. Khadgar entered his room and physically locked the door, magically reinforced it and then sank to the floor. The soft cream carpet and lilac walls were alien to him, and the room had no particular aura or even scent. It was… mostly bare, unlived in, and only had a bookshelf with two rulebooks, a desk, and a neatly made bed. Khadgar dispelled his illusions and let himself be overtaken by a torrent of emotions. This wasn’t what he remembered Dalaran’s accomodations to be like – there had been people to look after him before when he was young, but now it seemed he was expected to look after himself. Curled up on the floor with his back to the door, Khadgar felt a creeping sense of loneliness approach and settle over his mind. Then it began to seep in.

Khadgar was close to breaking into a thousand miserable little pieces when he remembered something. Medivh had packed his things for him… and had also written in his spellbook. Distracted and with hands shaking, Khadgar opened his satchel to find five things. A writing kit complete with various rare inks and three quills each with mysterious enchantments. A vial of concentrated mana in powder form. A piece of black fabric that had a portal woven into it, one that connected with the void storage back in Karazhan. The little icy raven sculpture that usually lived on Medivh’s worktable in his chambers. And… Khadgar’s spellbook, which he opened and flipped through to the most recent page he’d written on. Quite a few sheets of parchment had been inserted and new spells in Medivh’s most careful handwriting were written down. They were all extensively detailed procedures of the arcane, but pieces were missing that Khadgar would have to think about for himself. A few were even half finished spells, with enticing space left in wordless suggestion for Khadgar to create new forms of magic on his own. Then, in a tiny scrawl Khadgar noticed something else.

 _I cannot protect you while you are in Dalaran, but I will give you this spell to use in case you ever feel your life is in danger. The above arcane attacks will do nicely, but this one is truly for emergency purposes. Touch this,_ there was a small circle coloured with purple and green ink, the colours melding together in an unrecognizable pattern before Khadgar’s eyes _. And speak the incantation, sho’kreesh aldalen._ There was a phonetic transcription of the spell and without a moment’s hesitation, Khadgar put his finger on the spot and spoke. At once, a burning spark lanced through his head as knowledge bloomed and took root in his mind. He clutched his head, gasping at the pain that seared through the inside of his skull. There was a dull ache that remained after several minutes above and behind his left eye, and he imagined that whatever he’d just learned had settled in that part of his brain. What he’d learned was a unique spell of no discernable school, a hastily cobbled mix of magics that were not just pure arcane. The core of this spell was physical energy mixed with mana, executed and controlled by willpower alone. Khadgar did not know what this spell could do, and was almost afraid to find out. The knowledge was there, dormant, the incantation the same one that had been written on the page. He knew how to summon the energies, curious and volatile magics he’d previously had no grasp on at all. This was Medivh’s gift to him… and he held onto it that night, going over the new pieces of information in his head. An elemental had knocked on the door and delivered Khadgar’s schedule, which he only read as he was settling in to sleep. Sleep however, did not come and Khadgar was worried about how well he would perform in his first class for the day. He set his worries aside as at eight in the morning, he headed downstairs for breakfast. At the foot of the students’ living tower the arched entryway lead to the open center of the Violet Citadel. Here, there were magi of all ages casting various sorts of magic. Khadgar walked past conjurers trying to make an elemental out of ripped up sheets of parchment, students chasing each other and firing frostbolts around, and even a few people of unknown high rank wearing Kirin Tor tabards observing it all. He went into the banquet hall, a wide and airy place with long wooden tables, a dark purple floor, pillars holding up a second level and archways that offered a glimpse of lush gardens outside. It all looked very fancy and the people here were well dressed, most in gold and violet robes that denoted a student’s uniform. Instructors and other magi also were eating things in here, elementals conjuring whatever they wanted with precision and skill. Khadgar approached one after observing someone asking for eggs and bacon.

“Uh… can I please have some porridge?”

The elemental nodded and conjured up a steaming hot bowl of porridge for Khadgar, handing it over to him. Khadgar mumbled a quiet word of gratitude and went to the nearest table, slumping over it. He hoped he would gain a bit of energy by eating this – he felt emotionally exhausted and his body just wanted to rest. According to his schedule, he had a class in Frost at 9am. It was on the fifth floor of the Tower of Knowledge, and Khadgar needed to look for the door marked 1-A. He would concentrate on that later. For now, he ate. Warmed inside and able to focus a little better, he glanced around.

 _‘I… should probably get some of those robes. I don’t want to look different, draw attention...’_ The other students were between the ages of five and twenty, anyone older wore different clothes and kept to small groups or solitary positions. Along the benches near the tables, rows of people sat chatting, eating, studying and even casting. Khadgar heard all sorts of spells being practised, saw repetitive hand movements done under the table, and wondered how much work he was going to have to do to reach these people’s standards. A flash of the etiquette Medivh had taught him popped into his mind. _Don’t stare._

By now he had finished his porridge and approached the arcane elemental with his empty bowl.

“What do I do with this?” He couldn’t see anywhere to leave dishes to be cleaned. The elemental took the bowl and it immediately disintegrated, magical energy dispersing into the air. Then, the elemental spoke in a hollow, ethereal voice.

“You should drink something. Dehydration is the most common source of water based spells failing.” It offered Khadgar a glass of water, and he took it in one hand. It was… clearer than the liquids Khadgar’s own conjuring had produced, and tasted a little sweet. There was mana in here.

“Thank you.” said Khadgar, and then asked, “I’m new here… could you tell me where I can get the robes everyone else is wearing?”

“Go to the Magus Commerce Exchange.” said the elemental, conjuring a map and marking it with a red exclamation point. Then it thought for a second. “You do not have the appropriate attire for your lessons today, do you?”

“I do not.” Khadgar couldn’t help but be creeped out by how intelligent and… _sentient_ the elemental seemed, for something created with raw arcane energy. There was so much he did not understand. It bothered him somewhat.

“You must talk to the transmogrifier over there, with the white shirt and black pants. He will assist you.” Khadgar looked where the elemental pointed and saw a tall, slender elf with long blonde hair and a calm, relaxed demeanor.

“Okay.” Khadgar approached him, sipping at his drink and trying not to bump into anyone. Some people were standing around, and quite a few looked at him, having never seen him before. New students were rare at this time of year, especially ones of Khadgar’s age. He had literally popped up out of nowhere, and nobody knew who he was. Antonidas, however, had told all of Khadgar’s instructors plus a few of the Kirin Tor about Medivh’s apprentice. The hype was real.

“Excuse me, sir.” said Khadgar, drawing the transmogrifier’s attention. “The elemental over there told me to ask you about getting some robes like those.” He indicated to a student wearing the Dalaran uniform nearby.

“Ah, you’re new, are you?” The transmogrifier, a high elf by the name of Varedis, looked Khadgar up and down. “Hah, your clothes are already conjured. I can’t transmogrify that.”

“Eeh?” Khadgar nearly dropped his glass. “But… my next class is in half an hour… and I don’t have the money to buy anything new!”

“Of course you don’t.” Varedis didn’t seem to believe him, squinting his bright blue eyes. “Look, I’ll cast an illusion on you for your first class and you can go visit Charles at Talismanic Textiles afterwards. You’ve got your registration and lodgings paid for, right? You should’ve had your robes delivered before you got here.”

“It’s… complicated.” said Khadgar, before a sudden yellow light enveloped him. When he looked at himself, he saw that his robes appeared like the uniform everyone else wore – and it was a proper, strong illusion too. “Oh! Thank you.”

Varedis nodded. “Now, off with you. Half an hour’s not much for your first class. Drink a mana potion, gather your things and remember the rules.” He paused for a moment, noticing the slight confusion on Khadgar’s face. “You do know the rules, right?”

“Uh, no fighting, no… blinking, no…”

Varedis facepalmed. “By the Light, where did you come from? I mean the rules about listening to your instructors and casting only when told to.”

“Nh…” Khadgar shuffled his feet, his illusory boots clicking against the floor. “Nobody told me…”

“Well, it should be common sense.” A different voice came from behind Khadgar and the young mage turned to see a tall woman with black hair and a smooth, fair face looking mildly perturbed.

“Ah! Archmage Modera.” Varedis bowed. “Please, take this one and educate him. He doesn’t have the slightest clue what he’s doing here.”

Khadgar felt a strange, unpleasant emotion tighten his chest. Varedis didn’t seem to notice or care, and shooed him off. Archmage Modera took Khadgar to the central area in the Violet Citadel outside the banquet hall, and inspected him.

“An illusion for your uniform and a set of conjured clothes beneath that. You must be the Guardian’s apprentice.” Modera didn’t think Medivh bothered with physical clothes – a mage with the power he had would simply conjure everything for convenience’s sake. “Khadgar, yes?”

“Y..yes..” Khadgar repeated. “I, uh, I’m sorry…” He didn’t know what he apologized for but the way Modera looked at him made him want to. She wore a well fitted dark grey blazer and skirt, looking like more of a businessperson than an archmage. He got the impression she was powerful enough to wear whatever she wanted – people would still recognize her as a figure of authority, a force to be reckoned with. First impressions and intimidation aside, Khadgar pursed his lips. “I don’t know the way things work around here…”

“Of course. Much has changed since you last walked the red paved roads of Dalaran.” Modera had heard about the boy who’d stolen Antonidas’s orb, and was still trying to wrap her head around how Antonidas had forgotten him when said orb was still missing. She chalked it up to the Guardian’s magic and perhaps even Antonidas growing senile in his old age. “Now then. We won’t have any sneaking or stealing tolerated, nor will there be wanton casting of whatever you’ve been taught. Here, you learn all your spells from scratch and demonstrate them when asked. Understand?”

“Yes, Miss…”

“Good.” She tilted Khadgar’s head up with a firm hand beneath his chin. “You look terrible. You did not sleep last night, hm?”

“No…” Khadgar felt as if he was being picked apart and left to dry like strips of beef jerky. Modera ran a suddenly wet hand through his hair and spelled him into a state of moderate properiety – his medium length hair was slicked back now and his sleepless visage had a cold tightness to it. Khadgar, now having been blasted in the face with some weird ice spell, squinted. Modera squinted right back.

“Hm. That’ll do, I suppose. When you get a chance, read through the rulebooks in your room. Seven hundred pages each, and I want you done with them by the end of the week. If you break the rules I will be _very_ disappointed.”

Khadgar did not want to face this woman’s wrath and nodded. “As you wish.”

“Hmph. ‘As you wish’, sounds straight out of _Azerothian Etiquette Vol III_. Tell me, Khadgar, has the Guardian let you out of Karazhan at all in the past eight or so years?”

Khadgar shook his head. Then, he remembered. “I went to Stormwind once…”

“Ah, yes. I’ve heard the Guardian is friends with the King.” Modera waved a hand, dismissing that line of conversation. “You, child, have much to learn about the way of life here. Along with life in general. Now come. Your first class begins soon.” She lead Khadgar up into the Tower of Knowledge, and as he was used to climbing stairs, he was fine with ascending five floors on foot. Modera levitated, just because she could.

“Basic rules.” she explained as they went up. “Obey all instructions your teachers give you. Speak when spoken to, do not stand in the way of others, do not disturb anyone, use your better judgement when in doubt and _cast when asked_. Students have died because of spells practised at the wrong time, in the wrong place. And in case you didn’t know, killing people is also against the rules.”

“What a surprise.” Khadgar muttered, “Isn’t that common sense just about anywhere?”

“Yes,” said Modera, “But your Master has killed one of the Kirin Tor’s scouts just for wandering near Karazhan. Your morals may be… skewed.”

Khadgar thought better than to argue and sat with knowing Medivh had done what he had for the sake of protecting him. On the fifth floor, many students were gathered by the door marked 1-A. They were around Khadgar’s age and carried satchels slung over their shoulders. It made sense that everyone should have spellbooks to take notes of what they learned, and Khadgar was familiar with the process. The students looked at Modera, then at Khadgar, and murmured amongst themselves.

“Basic Frost.” said Modera, pushing Khadgar towards the crowd. “Good luck.” Then she was gone, leaving space in the staircase for others to walk. A slender male mage in Kirin Tor finery stepped into view and the students, including Khadgar, parted to let him open the door. He looked quite stern and had a white beard and moustache, as wizardly as anyone could be. He looked a little bit like Antonidas, but younger. Inside the classroom, everyone hung their satchels on hooks that floated near the wall. Khadgar did too, then rushed to stand in the line that everyone else formed. The instructor, Horace Alder, faced the row of students from a few meters away.

“Alright, class. Today, we will be going through a new spell, Ice Lance. To warm up, we shall practice Frostbolt and afterwards, I will check everyone’s Frost Nova work. I do hope you’ve all been refining your techniques?”

A few of the students nodded and made various sounds of agreement. Khadgar was glad Medivh had taught him how to do the last two spells – at least he wasn’t completely out of his element here. He hadn’t gotten around to practising Ice Lance, though he’d read about it in a book. He was reasonably adept at the school of Frost, moreso than with Fire, anyway. Instructor Alder looked at Khadgar then, and his eyes lit up with the joy of remembering something important he was sure he’d forgotten.

“Ah! We have a new student with us today.” He gestured to Khadgar, and everyone looked. Khadgar suddenly felt as if his peers could see through his illusory robes and shifted about, standing at the end of the line. “Khadgar is the apprentice of the Guardian Medivh.”

“The Guardian?!” someone gasped, and the students whispered excitedly among themselves. “Can we see him cast something, Sir?”

“In a minute, yes. Khadgar, do you know the two spells I mentioned before? Frostbolt and Frost Nova?”

“Yes, Sir. I do.” Khadgar nodded politely.

“Excellent! You’ll go first, then.” Alder noted the suddenly stricken look on Khadgar’s face and laughed. “Oh, don’t be shy. Here, observe. The rest of you, pay attention too.” He turned and after raising his left hand, human shaped targets appeared in a row. One for every student, and another for himself. He went and stood in the line with his students, and they shuffled to make room. Then, he cast Frostbolt.

“Vimiros!” The spell shot forth and made a hole in the target’s head. The students clapped, but Khadgar furrowed his brows.

_‘The incantation is wrong…’_

Alder turned to Khadgar, still intent on seeing his skills. There was an odd, almost childlike look of delight on his weathered face. He resumed his position standing before the line of students and once more, all heads turned towards Khadgar.

“Go on, then. Aim at that one there.” Alder pointed to the target ten meters away from Khadgar. Not wanting to hesitate and make the entire class doubt his abilities, Khadgar pulled his energies together, focussing on the natural magic in the air and forgetting to be an exhausted, frightened wreck. Frostbolt, he could cast without speaking the incantation aloud. In his mind he called up the powerful words Medivh had taught him- Drui’shalach, the essence of pure ice and powerful projectile magic- and stared at his target. The spell shot forth without any prior warning and half the class startled at the sudden blast that obliterated the entire target, and froze a huge cracked mark into the back wall. Khadgar lowered his hand and looked at the instructor, eyes fading from their former bright glow. Alder raised his eyebrows.

“Impressive…! Alright then, the rest of you in groups of five.” He stood off to the side, out of the firing line so he did not get blasted to death by his students casting Frostbolt. “Go!”

Those nearest to Khadgar cast all at the same time and their attacks hit their targets, though they were slow enough for Khadgar to see and nowhere near as powerful. Over the course of a minute, Khadgar observed some that were more water than ice, some that were soft-edged and barely controlled, and others that missed their targets entirely. He couldn’t help but feel critical of everyone else’s spells, and wondered if the incantation was the problem. He decided to raise his hand just a little to ask a question. Alder looked at him.

“Yes?”

“May I ask… about the incantation?”

“What about it? You certainly didn’t make use of it, Khadgar.”

“Nn. I learned it differently, to do Frostbolt. Why do you use _Vimiros_?”

Alder looked perplexed. “Why indeed! That’s the way Frostbolt is cast. It takes the essence of water, _Vimi_ , and the force to push energy away at high speed, _Ros._ ”

“Oh…” Khadgar thought about it and he knew those words of power, but had never used them for any sort of projectile spell. “I see.” Before he could say anything else, Alder smiled and instructed the class to demonstrate their homework – Frost Nova. Starting from the other end of the line and with fresh, moving targets, the students went one by one up to them and gestured them into icy stillness. There was no incantation for this spell and when it was Khadgar’s turn, he ran a few meters and made the motion as if he were digging a massive pile of snow out from in front of him, throwing it into the air. Ice crystals burst from the ground and rooted his target immediately. Khadgar unclawed his tense fingers and went back to his spot in the line. The boy standing beside him looked from the target to Khadgar in shock. Khadgar could cast this spell at _range_. Nobody else could. It was designed to be performed within melee distance. Alder suspected Khadgar could do this because of his power, though in all his ten years of teaching he’d never seen anyone so young with such magical strength. Khadgar however was trying his hardest to stay focussed, running on the sleep he’d gotten two days ago and a bit of conjured porridge and mana infused water. Alder did not remark upon Khadgar’s prowess and addressed the class once more.

“Now then, Ice Lance. This is a spell with a gesture only and no incantation. It covers a hundred and eighty degrees of motion and can be cast repeatedly until you exhaust yourself. However, there are other, better spells you can use in combat. This one is used to get at those who are close enough to slap you, if you can’t cast Frost Nova in time to run to safety. Observe.” He swiveled his whole body and swept his right hand across in an arc level with his waist. A sheet of sharp, bluish white ice lanced across and disappeared when he stopped moving. “The energy is gathered and dispersed in a burst through your hand, and the success of the spell is based on how quickly you can gesture to spread the ice.” Students were already mimicking the motion, on a small scale and without gathering their energies. Alder instructed them to spread out in the classroom, standing wherever they wished but not within arm’s length of anyone else. Once everyone had sufficient room to cast without causing injury, they looked to Alder for permission.

“Right!” Alder stood where he could observe everyone. “Focus…”

Khadgar looked around at what the others were doing. They concentrated on drawing elemental magic from the air, and Khadgar did the same. He had been doing this for years, so it was easy and natural for him. He held it in his mind, eyes glowing bright blue as a result. Some people were trembling a bit, others making sounds of frustration and some completely silent. Alder waited until everyone had at least enough energy to cast the spell and then slowly did the motion for Ice Lance.

“Release.”

Crackling and knife-sharp slices cut through the air as everyone cast at once. Alder took note of those whose lances turned to water, and of any spell that was imperfect in the silghtest. Khadgar, being unused to the motion, released his energy just as he started to move his arm and instead of spreading it, managed to shoot dagger sharp icicles in a wide arc. He frowned.

 _‘That’s not right…’_ There was still a bit of distraction in his mind regarding the incantation used for projectile spells. Perhaps that was what had thrown him off. He was about to try again, quickly before anyone noticed he’d messed up, when someone shrieked and fell to the floor.

“Melondis! What’s the matter?” Alder blinked into the space just before the fallen student. Melondis had an icicle sticking out of his chest and it was melting rapidly, soaking the front of his robes. And there was blood. Shaking, Melondis pointed a finger at Khadgar. All eyes turned, some wide with fear and others narrow, mistrusting. Alder turned to Khadgar, who had by now pulled enough energy into himself to try the spell again.

“Release that magic, young man.”

Khadgar did, letting it seep out of him and feeling deflated as a result. The clarity of spellcasting left his mind and emotion stepped in. His soft blue eyes flickered.

“It… it was an accident.”

“Oh, I’m sure.” Alder shook his head. “Melondis. No, don’t close your eyes.” He was no healer and decided to summon an ice elemental to carry Melondis to the infirmary. “Go. Get him some help.” The elemental rushed off at once. Alder then turned back to Khadgar, who looked absolutely lost.

“You, boy, are something else.”

Khadgar’s dark brows drew together, his eyes wide and afraid. “What…?”

“That power of yours is dangerous.” Alder strode over to Khadgar and in order to diffuse the drama, gave a hand signal for everyone else to keep practising their spells. Nobody moved. This was far more interesting. “You do not know even the basics of control?”

“I- I do!” Khadgar spluttered, taking a step back. Alder’s eyes were alight with an intimidating certainty and Khadgar did not know or understand what was going to happen next. All he could do was try to explain himself. “I was just doing as you’d said… focus, release, the..” He gestured. Alder actually flinched, and grabbed Khadgar by the wrist. He leaned in close and whispered.

“Just how many of my students will fall in order for you to get this right?”

Khadgar bit his bottom lip. “None, Sir. I’m sorry.”

Alder released him, stepping back. He turned to the rest of the class, smiling brightly as if he’d not just looked like a constipated demon moments prior. “Alright, everybody! Shields up, and keep trying. Varius, that’s good, lift your hand a little…” He walked through the students who now had small bubbles of magic protecting them in case anyone misfired their spells. But Khadgar knew it was to protect them from _him_. Upset, he turned away and practised several times until he manage to form the Ice Lance as Alder had shown. Frosty mist had begun to rise from his body, and his repeated casting had caused his light blue eyes to shimmer with magical energy. This effect did not dissipate even as he relaxed his grip on his mana. Magic ran through his blood. The rest of class was spent with practise and tuition, but Khadgar who had already picked up the basics of the spell found himself apart from the other students. Alert despite fatigue beginning to set in, he noticed every glance and heard the few whispers that darted around. They did not trust him. Ironic, considering his name suggested to. Time passed. In the last ten minutes of class everyone wrote the day’s work in their own spellbooks and journals, and Khadgar sat on the floor to jot down notes on Ice Lance. He did this two pages away from the last of Medivh’s instructions, wishing to preserve the very indentations left by his Master’s quill in the paper. He felt oddly sentimental, despite having seen the last of Medivh only yesterday. For so many years he had been close to the Magus, been _raised_ by him even, and now he was expected to function here in Dalaran, unguided and alone. Khadgar finished writing down what he needed to and waved the ink dry with a quick hand. He carefully leafed back in his spellbook to look at the incantation for the urgent defense (or attack?) spell. _Sho’kreesh aldalen._ That sounded like a mixture of Eredun and High Elven. Peculiar, for Medivh to use the language of demons in a written lesson to his apprentice… Khadgar pushed the moment of worry aside. It didn’t matter what language the spell was in – if it worked when Khadgar needed it, it was good. He trusted that Medivh had given the spell enough utility to save his life, something that was in both of their best interests. Khadgar ran his finger over the incantation, mouthing it in silence. A flash of movement to the right drew his eyes to see a student peering into his spellbook. Khadgar shut it at once, irises glowing white in a moment of indignant fury. The student hastily turned away and acted as if nothing had happened at all.

 _‘How **dare** he…’_ Khadgar thought to himself, face settling into a grumpy frown. His tiredness had reached a depressing, annoying plateau now and with his focus drawn back into reality, he felt achingly aware of himself. The dull throb behind his eyes. The tension in his arms. The random stabs in nerve clusters deep inside his body, and the horrible empty tightness in his stomach. It seemed he could not survive on a bowl of porridge and mana infused water after all. His casting had taken even more energy out of him, and now that he was aware of it it threatened to overcome him. He leaned his back against the wall and stared into space, packing his things into his satchel without even looking. No-one spoke to him, and after class he drifted downstairs to find three Archmagi waiting for him. Antonidas, Modera and a balding man with a half ring of black hair around the back of his head. Antonidas tilted his head to the side.

“Child, are you well?”

“No…” Khadgar unconsciously clutched the top of his satchel tighter. He managed to meet Antonidas’s vibrant purple gaze. “Sir… I need to recover my strength.”

Modera scoffed at his wording. “How mature.” She jerked her thumb in the direction of the Banquet Hall, a short distance across the Violet Citadel’s ornate floor. “Go get some mana from the elementals and come back here. We have things to discuss.”

Khadgar did as told, and when he came back he was at full magical strength, though it ebbed as he drained it to supplement his waning physical might. How badly he just wanted to lie down and rest beside Medivh…! But it could not be done, and he blinked a few times.

“What is it?”

The balding Archmage, Karlain, wrung his large hands together. “How was your first class?”

“He nearly _killed_ someone.” Alder’s voice came from behind Khadgar and as the young mage turned, he saw his teacher looking more concerned than angry. “You should have his powers brought in check at once. The Guardian’s apprentice has no place in my class if he cannot control himself.”

Khadgar felt that strange, unpleasant feeling he had earlier now come to hit him full force, the back of his throat doing a weird little flex. He gulped. Being spoken of in such a way did not sit well with him, especially when he stood right here to witness it. Antonidas stroked his long white beard thoughtfully. Had he any memory of Khadgar’s past, he would have been shaking, outraged and probably a bit frightened.

“Hmm. Khadgar, did you have an accident?”

Khadgar shuffled his feet, his gaze immediately sliding to the floor. “I did…” Then he looked up. “But Sir, it was my first try, and I was just trying to get a feel for the spell…”

“You don’t feel spells, kid. You execute them with precision and control.” Modera said. “If you were ‘feeling’ a spell and ended up nearly killing someone with it, then we’ve got a murderer on our hands.”

“Modera!” Antonidas chided. “He’s just a child. Everyone makes mistakes. Isn’t that right?” He looked to Khadgar for a bit of agreement but before Khadgar could say anything, Alder spoke.

“You should test him, Archmage. See what he knows and what he’s suited for. Trial and error with the Guardian’s apprentice isn’t a game any of us want to play.” Then he muttered under his breath. “We don’t get paid enough for that.”

Karlain giggled and Khadgar gave him a strange look, Modera too. Karlain withered at Modera’s glare and tried to shrink behind Antonidas. Antonidas shook his head.

“I don’t have the time, Horace. Let’s just see how this all turns out, hm?” He turned to Khadgar and smiled at him. “You do your best, alright? Your next class is, if I recall, Fire at 11:30. Oh! That’s in fifteen minutes.”

Khadgar sighed. “Alright.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *harry potter theme plays in the distance*


	9. Chapter 9

Khadgar was nearly dead on his feet after his class in Fire, stumbling down the stairs in an effort to get to the Banquet Hall, eat something and then sleep with his head on the table. That was exactly what he did, and after a mostly restless session of daydreaming and shifting uncomfortably, he glanced to the clock on the high ceiling. 2pm. His next class was _Mathematics_ in room _4-B_. At least there was no physical work in this one. Once he was seated and given a textbook to work from, he found it relaxing to set his mind to working through things he was capable of. The book, _Basic Mathematical Equations for the Beginner Arcanist_ had things Khadgar had been doing since he was ten. Everything he worked out in his mind brought him to answers he wrote on the blank pages offered and finished the work in less than twenty minutes. He wasn’t sure what to do now, as everyone else was busy (including the instructor, who was busy peering into a scrying orb and watching someone run after a small imp in a large city). So, he put his head down and closed his eyes.

A sharp tap on his shoulder woke him about fifteen minutes later.

“Where is your working?” asked the instructor, Cyana Nightwand.

“Eh?” Khadgar blinked. “Did I do them wrong?”

“No.” Nightwand pointed with her index finger and highlighted Khadgar’s answers – they were all correct. “But you have not shown how you reached these answers.”

“Does it matter?” Khadgar was aware of a few eyes on him once more. _‘Damn it._ ’

Nightwand narrowed her bluish purple eyes. “Are you being smart with me, boy? Of course it matters, I showed you how to do these and you just ignore all that, writing down what you feel like?”

Khadgar could not understand for the life of him why his instructor was acting like this. She tapped the page and everything disappeared.

“Do it again. Show how you worked out the answers.”

Khadgar’s eyes widened. Again? From the very beginning? Writing all that would surely make his hand fall off, not to mention take a ridiculous amount of time…

“Are you serious?” He looked up at her, perplexed. Nightwand’s eyes flashed and she flicked her left hand, blasting Khadgar in the forehead with a searing spark of arcane energy. “Nh!” He gasped.

“Do it.” said the instructor, before turning and walking back to her desk – and her scrying orb. Khadgar rubbed his forehead, a low whine escaping him.

_‘What on Azeroth is this bullshit?!’_

Unable to enchant his quill to do the writing for him, Khadgar dipped it into the dark ink nearby and started again. He found it pointless but still managed to get everything done – and Nightwand checked everyone’s work before a single student was allowed to leave. Once out in the Violet Citadel’s central hall, Khadgar followed the crowds out of the stairs and into the streets of Dalaran. The entire time he’d been writing, his mind had been not on the equations but on how he was going to get himself a uniform without any money. Wandering through the Magus Commerce Exchange he found his destination easily enough, and stepped into Talismanic Textiles. A man was sitting on the polished wooden counter with a garment draped over his lap, a needle floating in the air with golden thread trailing from it. He glanced at Khadgar, the needle stilling.

“Conjured robes? Let me guess, you’re the new arrival here to pick up your uniform?”

Khadgar nodded. “If… if that’s okay…?”

“It most certainly is… not!” The man, one Charles Worth, master tailor and owner of the shop, slipped off the counter. He set his work on a nearby mannequin and inspected Khadgar. “Archmage Antonidas himself told me that you are to be measured and clothed at once in preparation for your continued studies. But tell me, lad, how am I expected to craft something without due payment?”

Khadgar cringed. “I don’t know… I don’t have any money, but if there’s anything I can do-”

“Bah, you can do nothing for me.” Charles waved his hand and summoned a tape measure from somewhere across the room. “Upstairs with you. I will work out the finer details with whoever sent you here.” He handed the tape measure to Khadgar, who started up the stairs. Khadgar smiled at the thought of this man confronting Medivh about a handful of gold pieces. Medivh would surely reimburse him and then send him on his way. There was nothing to worry about. Not at all.

 

But where was Medivh?

 

Around the time that Khadgar had an assistant measuring him in a most professional manner, Medivh was asleep. Subdued by the dark forces within, his body moved by the command of Sargeras alone. Clothed in heavy velvet robes as red as mortal blood, Sargeras inspected his humanoid hands with distaste. He did not like being trapped in this tiny, fleshy prison, so unsuitable for a titan as mighty as he. Only in the manifestation of demonic horns from Medivh’s forehead and in the blackening of nails could he express a little of himself.

Sargeras stepped through the Twisting Nether with bare feet touching rocks, planets and fragments of time. This was how he transported himself and expended the power threatening combustion upon his mortal shell. In the distance he could see his home, his kingdom, Argus. It was on the border between the physical realm and the Twisting Nether, visible as a hovering ball of black and green. He smiled. His servants had changed the very nature of the land, causing it to appear cold and corrupt even from afar. Once in the airspace of his own world, Sargeras spread his flaming, leathery wings and dove in. He flew over jagged crystal mountains that festered with felblight and crumbled at his command. Canyons of serrated rock refracted light everywhere, nearly blinding Sargeras as they twinkled beneath him. On and on he flew through the boiling, acrid air until his destination loomed up from between two great peaks. Mac’Aree, the capital city in which his greatest servants, Archimonde and Kil’jaeden, lived. All sorts of demons fluttered about in the air, parting at Sargeras’s approach. Not all of them understood how bound he was to his current shape, and some gawked at the sight of a human in their fair city. Well, as fair as an obscene amalgamation of darkness and magic could be. Sargeras flew into the palace and at once found himself awash in glorious, powerful fel energies. He touched down at the foot of endless black stairs, runes spreading from his feet to form two glowing green sigils.

“I come.” he said, and the walls shook. Crystalline decorations and slabs of rock crumbled away, illusory as they had always been, to reveal a huge, circular room with a black and green marbled floor. The cracks in the floor pulsed as if a heart beat beneath the palace and that was where Sargeras could sense the Legion’s energy having coalesced. There was a living, breathing _thing_ here that functioned like the Well of Eternity, where all his subjects could draw power from. Sargeras had to reject it. His own inner strength was going to annihilate Medivh’s body otherwise.

Across the wide room stood two Eredar – Archimonde with a hand to his mouth and Kil’jaeden blazing in excitement.

“Master!” Kil’jaeden cried, dropping to one knee. Archimonde did the same, eyes downcast. Sargeras bade them rise with a flick of his will and stepped forwards. He had to look up to meet eyes with the ridiculously tall demons.

“Yes, it is I. Finally free of that wretched Azeroth, yet clothed as one of its weakling subjects. Tell me, how goes the fight?”

“Well enough.” said Archimonde, sitting on the floor to lessen the height difference between himself and his Master. “Draenor is dying and the orcs will rip each other to pieces soon enough.” He chuckled darkly, nudging Kil’jaeden. “He has corrupted their most powerful leaders.”

“Excellent.” Sargeras patted Kil’jaeden on the cheek, his touch delightfully hot and singeing the Eredar’s skin. Kil’jaeden purred softly, eyes bright and facial tentacles waving. “I have been doing work of my own, battling the will of this one.” He gestured to himself, crawling over thick legs to seat himself in Kil’jaeden’s lap. “The Guardian will succumb to madness soon enough, and I will be able to twist his body as I like.”

Archimonde looked concerned. “But Master, why do you not?”

“Because he has his uses yet as a puppet with a human face, you fool.” Sargeras snapped and Archimonde cringed, lowering his head. “Medivh toys with time and space, the entire world trusts him, and he is strong enough to level the planet in a matter of days. Joined with him, his power is my own.” Sargeras was aware of Kil’jaeden feeling around and permitted him to explore the intricacies of this alien body. No-one on Argus had seen a real, live human before, not in their own physical space. Kil’jaeden poked at Sargeras’s chest, and the demon lord felt no pain. Medivh, however, was going to end up quite bruised…

“Now. I want a full report on all that has been going on in Draenor. Show me who you have ‘allied’ with,” Sargeras laughed and leaned back against Kil’jaeden’s bare chest. “And I will choose one for later.” He could take control of the body while Medivh slept, be it a forced state of unconsciousness or an innocent period of rest. As long as the Guardian was not actively fighting his possession, Sargeras could do as he liked.

Archimonde opened up a scrying orb, huge and tainted with green.

“Here is what we have discovered.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> illuminati confirmed


End file.
